


Remembering Me

by Faranae



Series: Stolen Memories Timeline [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bad Puns, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff and Smut, Foul Language, Multi, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Reader has a potty mouth, Reader-Insert, Sensitive bones, Sexual Humor, Soul Sex, Spoilers, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:37:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5315342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faranae/pseuds/Faranae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story in which a surface dweller journeys to the underground seeking something they'd lost, and finds far more misplaced than anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Slice of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Let's keep this short! ... 7 pages later...
> 
> I haven't written fanfiction since I was a young teenager, so this is very, very new to me. I also don't really have anyone to bounce these chapters off of before posting, so please feel free to message me on Tumblr (faranaelit.tumblr.com) with any critique, requests, etc etc!
> 
> I apologize for the jumpy format, this is only for effect in the first chapter and will not be used frequently.
> 
> Warning: This chapter has a mild lime near the end (does anyone even use the term lemon/lime any more).

“Sans?”

It had taken you a few moments to realize that you were alone in the dark, curled up in your blankets like a burrito. Had the laptop battery died? You could have sworn you’d left it open last night for a bit of light. The chill air seeped in by your neck, threatening your cozy haven. You pulled the blankets in tighter and called out, a bit louder this time.

“Sans, you alright hun?”

Perhaps he’d had another nightmare. It was odd though, you were a light enough sleeper that usually his thrashing would wake you.

Reluctantly and with a shiver, you tossed aside your blanket cocoon and swung your legs off the bed. Not tonight, apparently. Where on earth had he gone to?

 

*********

 

The egg-soaked slices of bread hit the pan with a sizzle and the kitchen was immediately filled with the scent of rosemary and olive oil.

“how you doing, kiddo? school treating you okay? how was the math test?”

You wiped the egg concoction off your fingers and leaned against the kitchen door frame, shamelessly eavesdropping on the nightly phone call. Sans was lounging against the arm of the couch, one leg hanging off the side as his bare heel nervously bounced on the floor with a _clack-clack-clack_. Nine-o-clock, every night, without fail, he would call to say goodnight to Toriel’s kid. For someone so lazy, he sure did love his schedule.

“well i’d say that doesn’t _add_ up. it was not, you’re laughing. i have a whole _range_ of them. maybe next time I can _derive_ out there and we can-- frisk? you still there kid?“

You shook your head with a chuckle and turned back to the pan, gently flipping the french toast.

“they hung up on me!”

Thinking his call was done, you reached out the kitchen doorway waggling a bottle of ketchup to get his attention. When the bottle wasn’t yanked from your hand immediately you peeked around the frame again, raising an eyebrow with concern. Sans had abandoned his lazy position and was sitting tensely upright, the phone still held to his skull as his foot tapped nervously. With a start he leaned down towards his knees, almost defensively.

“t-tori? hey, yeah, me again. the kiddo hung up on me. they okay?”

You flicked the burner off and slid the last of dinner onto two waiting plates. Utensils, ketchup, tomato relish, a glass of wine for yourself. Two steaming plates stacked high with savoury french toast. You nodded to yourself and mentally fist-pumped. You’d outdone yourself with this one. The only thing missing from this table was your bonehead of a boyfriend.

“a what. no. no way. they’re too young to have a- yes i know you’re their mother but- hey, i’m allowed to be a bit protective.“

Leaving him to the call, you walked down the hall to your room. A stack of what looked like half-folded laundry impeded your entry, jamming the door after you had opened it a few inches. Sans must have teleported out without realizing they were blocking the door. A few solid shoves and the mound dislodged, sending socks flying across the room. You chuckled. As if your room needed to be any more of a mess.

You would get around to cleaning it eventually, you thought to yourself with a yawn.

While the rest of your apartment was fairly simple (it was easier to clean that way), your room was your haven. Comic books, video games, and laundry covered nearly every surface. The walls were covered in posters, with the exception of the space beside the bed. There, hanging on the wall, was a decorated wooden frame.

You had been told it was a gift to Sans from Frisk shortly after the monsters had been freed from Mt. Ebott. The bottom panel was large enough to slip a store-bought calendar into, while the top had been modified with chalkboard paint. The black space heavily contrasted the mass of glitter glue and stickers plastered over the rest of it.

It had seemed like such a simple thing, and at first after meeting your new monster friends you hadn’t thought much of how protective Sans was of the calendar. It wasn’t until nearly a year dating the skeleton that you had pried the truth of him regarding the source of his depression and anxiety. You hadn’t understood at first, of course. But over the years you had come to understand that Sans was deadly serious when he spoke about these “resets”.

Something in your chest twinged as you looked as the terrible handwriting on the board, running your thumb gently over the edge of the frame.

**5  y e a r s**

**8 2  d a y s**

**y o u ‘ r e  f i n e .**

You slipped the frame off its hook, taking care not to drop the stick of chalk nested in the top section. Sans needed this, you thought to yourself. It always cheered him up when he was in a funk.

You nearly tripped over the scattered laundry as you made your way back to the living room to see if Sans had finished his call. He had resumed his lazy position and was reclining fully, eyes closed, phone discarded on the floor. If you didn’t know him better you’d say he was sleeping. But you did know better, and he grunted as you plopped down in his lap and scribbled a smiley face on his forehead with the stick of chalk.

“You know,” you said with a smirk. “I always could tell when you were pretending to sleep. How’d the kid’s date with _‘Math Test’_ go today?” Despite his closed sockets and your hands being full you made clumsy air quotes with your fingers.

The attempt was not lost on him. His eyes shot open the second you mentioned the word “date”. Sans snatched the chalk from your hand with a glare, furiously rubbing to remove the offending emoticon from his skull. You chuckled softly and held the board up so he could reach it.

Using his sleeve he gently erased the “2” on the chalkboard and scrawled in a “3”. The very act seemed to calm him down and you could sense the tension lifting. The lights in his sockets glinted and his tense smile had been replaced by a genuine one. He looked up at you fondly, reaching up with the chalk to poke your nose.

“so, you knew about the date huh? since when are you and frisk all buddy buddy?”

“Since Toriel and Pap were busy and I ended up taking them shopping for the perfect date outfit. Really Sans, they’re 15. Let them have a little fun. What’s the worst that could happen?”

His smile faltered and he sighed, taking the calendar from you gently, cradling it in one arm like a child, and walking off wordlessly toward the bedroom.

 

*********

_Thump!_

“Ow, shit. “

Stumbling groggily around in the dark apartment, you had stubbed your toe for the third time that evening.

“Stupid wall. Jumping out at me.“

There was no sign of Sans in the kitchen. His hoodie wasn’t hanging by the door, and his shoes were gone, so you assumed he’d taken a walk. You debated going out to look for him, but you respected that sometimes he just needed time to think.

Yawning, you decided to go back to bed, tripping over the couch on your way.

“Stupid couch. That’s not where I fuckin’ left you. . . “

 

*********

 

“Knock knock,” as you nudged the door open with your hip, you could tell he thankfully wasn’t as upset as he had seemed a few moments earlier. He was sitting on the bed, just staring at the re-hung calendar. “Dinner is served. I slaved over a hot stove for all of ten minutes to make this shit, don’t let it get any colder than it already is. Pillows and Netflix?”

Sans reached out as you approached and took the ketchup and one of the plates off your very full hands. He looked around for a moment trying to determine the location of the laptop before settling his gaze on a pile of laundry in the corner of the room. His left eye glowed an icy blue and out of Sock Hell rose the computer, surrounded by the same misty glow.

“what?” He chuckled as you rolled your eyes, getting situated on the bed. “i’m lazy, remember? _dos_ this seem too _e.x.e._?” His pupils nearly sparkled as he set down the computer and flicked it on. That was the Sans you knew and loved. And those were the puns you were so amazingly not in the mood for at that moment.

“Get out of my house. “

“hey, i live here too, something wrong with your _memory_?“

“Sans!“ You were trying. You were trying so hard to suppress a giggle. The corners of your mouth twitched up, but you were determined that he would not win this one.

“wow, you look like you’re ready to _ram_ that fork into my femur.“

Nope. That was it. The dam broke and you let out a rather unattractive snort followed by a fit of giggling. Sans dumped ketchup on his food while you recovered, smirking in your direction and leaning back into a pile of pillows while some movie neither of you really cared about started on the screen.

 

*********

 

What was wrong with you tonight? On your trek to the washroom you had gone into the spare room. On your trip back to the bedroom you had gone into the spare room _again_. You counted nine stubbed toes total, and didn’t know if your poor baby toe could take much more abuse. You felt disoriented, like you were still half asleep. You thought that maybe you were coming down with something.

You grabbed your phone from the bedside table and thought about texting Sans to bring back some munchies, but thought better of it. Junk food sounded tempting, but if you were actually getting sick it was a pretty bad idea.

You tossed the phone back onto the table and collapsed into the comfy zone.

 

*********

 

“i guess it’s a good thing i didn’t want to watch this movie, huh babe?”

“Shut up, Sans.”

“i didn’t even make a pun that ti-i-iiieeeeeholyshit.” his words were cut short as you nibbled lightly on his ribs, running your fingers along the underside and grazing them gently with your nails. You were determined to cheer him up and quite frankly, you needed a bit of cheering up too. At some point in the film you had gotten bored, idly stripping down while he tried (and failed) to focus on the movie defiantly.

A bead of sweat dripped down his skull, hanging off his jaw and dislodging only when a second nibble caused him to shudder. You had lifted his shirt up for easier access to his ribcage, exposing some of his more sensitive areas. Steadying yourself on one elbow, you reached further into his chest cavity and teased his spine. A guttural groan leaked out between his teeth and he shuddered, the vibrations travelling down his spine and tickling your fingers.

“fuck, i love you.”

Looking up from your position, you could see the flush of blue on his cheeks as he looked down at you. His eyes were wide, and the lights in his sockets were bright. There was still a glimmer of wonder there, a level of disbelief. Three years you’d been doing this for him. Three years and he still couldn’t believe you weren’t completely repulsed by him.

“So,” You flicked at his thoracic vertebrae playfully, delighting at the twitch you got in response. “Are you going to take me to the bone zone or what?”

There was the grin you were used to, as his face shifted from wonder to hunger. You mentally cringed at your mental rhyme as a spark of blue flashed in that eye of his. He brought his hands down to stroke your face as an icy light trailed down his ribcage, seeped through your fingers before moving on and disappearing below you.

… And materializing in the shape of a dick _over top of his fucking shorts_. You snorted and covered your face with your palm.

“Sans.” You chuckled and shook your head. “Are you really _that_ lazy?”

“babe, we’ve been through this.”

“You need to take _languor_ management classes.” His dick twitched at that one. You could tell from his astonished expression that you had, for a change, pun-upped him.

And he fucking loved it.

 

*********

 

It was cold. Pulling the blanket tighter around you, you looked longingly at your phone on the table. The sleepy fog in your brain tried to pull you back to sleep, but something didn’t feel right about how long Sans had been gone. Unless he had gotten caught up in watching the stars, in which case there was slim chance you’d see him before dawn.

You craned your neck towards the window and noted that from what you could see through the gap in the curtains, it was overcast tonight. Not a star in sight.

 

*********

 

A few sleepy hours after your detailed and admittedly exhausting lesson in skeleton anatomy, the light from the laptop illuminated his face as you studied his expression with concern.

It never ceased to amaze you that his sockets could clench shut like that. You supposed it was because while he certainly looked like a skeleton, he was really just a monster that resembled one. Still half-asleep, you ran a fingertip lightly down his jaw and mindlessly sung a few bars of your usual lullaby. Sans shuddered in his nightmare, his jaw tense and his fingers tangled in the sheets, with a death-like grip.

_“Driftwood is burning blue. . . Wild walk the wall shadows. . . “_

A tiny blue spark glowed inside his skull. This was a bad one, you realized, if his magic was instinctively activating. You trailed your finger from his jaw down to his collarbone, applying a bit more pressure as you propped yourself up on your other arm. Rubbing firmly and continuing your tune, you fluttered light kisses on his sternum.

_“Night winds go riding by,”_ the spark flared, casting an eerie glow through the base of his skull and illuminating your hands. _“Riding by the lochie meadows,”_ A final pulse of blue and the light died, leaving the computer once again as the only source of light in the room. Sans’ grip on the sheets loosened and you heard his ribs rattle softly as he let out a breathless sigh.

Nudging a pillow up against his shoulder to soften the bony edge, you snuggled up beside him and interlaced your fingers with his. One last look to make sure his brow was no longer furrowed and you were content, drifting back to sleep, and still wordlessly humming your little lullaby.

 

*********

 

You felt… something, crawling on your back. A whisper of a realization. A thought not yet fully formed. Something that terrified you as your half asleep-brain grasped at the kernel of knowledge, trying to bring it to the surface.

And then it hit you.

Jumping out of bed you raced to the wall switch. Sensitive eyes be damned, you needed some light. The switch wasn’t where it should be.

The wall.

The couch.

The fucking spare room, and feeling like a stranger in your own home.

_Of course._

As you fumbled along the wall for the light, your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach and your mind raced. You were more awake now than you ever thought you could be at four in the morning.

“You idiot,” you hissed to yourself as the sudden illumination burned your eyes. “You c-colossal idiot.”

You looked at the bare walls and slumped down to the floor, your heart racing. All the nights of talking Sans down from his nightmares, comforting him when his depression clawed at his skull. Every word spoken in confidence. Every terrified phone call he made to Toriel’s kid. They all came rushing forward at once, yet they could never have prepared you for this. All because of the realization that this was your old apartment.

You hadn’t lived here in _years_.

You screamed.


	2. A Royal Welcome (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You descend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a bit carried away writing the Ruins chapter so it's being split into two! Sorry!

You could see Mt. Ebott towering over the little town through the bus window as you pulled into the stop. It looked strangely serene. There were no tourist traps, no kiosks selling monster souvenirs. The shops you passed were mostly empty. It seemed the little economy really had exploded after the monsters were freed, but for now it was practically a ghost town.

You knew what day the monsters ascended from Mt. Ebott (it was a holiday for them in the future), but you had no idea what day little Frisk had fallen into the underground. It had taken only a few hours to get your affairs in order, informing work you needed to take emergency time off and setting your landlord up with some post-dated cheques for the rent in case you took longer than expected.

You were determined to make it to the mountain as soon as possible. You didn’t plan on sitting on your ass living normally for over a year waiting for the monster quarantine to be lifted so that Sans could make it back to your shithole of a city. You needed to get to him, to let him know that he wasn’t alone. That the reset had come at a shitty time, but that he at least still had you. He hadn’t lost everything from those 5-plus years of happiness. Of those three years with you.

Your heart raced as you trekked toward the edge of town. After three hours on a bus it was nice to stretch your legs, but the effort was still outside your normal level of activity. Your shoulders ached where your backpack straps dug in. The few people you did pass looked sadly towards you as you determinedly gazed over the buildings at the mountain in the distance. It seemed they were used to strangers in town following the rumours about that place. Just as quickly as they noticed you, they looked away as if you had never been there. It was obvious they didn’t expect you to come back.

You’d show them, you thought to yourself as you trekked off the main road. The paths leading up the mountain were overgrown and littered haphazardly with warning signs and half-assed barriers. It was obvious that whoever was in charge of maintaining the trails had given up long ago. One winding trail after another you made your way up the mountain, sweat pouring down your back and chest. The stinging in your heels was a painful reminder that these boots were great for city walks, but not hiking up a mountain. Those blisters were going to suck later, but Sans was worth the effort.

In your timeline the hole and exit both were locked down pretty tight, but preserved for “historical” reasons. You had visited once with Frisk and the skeleton brothers, enjoying a picnic on the mountain as they showered you in stories of Frisk’s adventures in the underground. It was one of your first “official” dates with Sans, after you’d decided to start calling your relationship what it pretty obviously was. Frisk had been ecstatic.

It had been hours, and the sun was falling slowly by the time you finally found what you were looking for. The clearing was actually very pretty in the past, you told yourself. No guard-rails or safety shit. You almost didn’t see the hole in time as you made your way towards the rock wall. Roots stuck up around the uneven terrain, making it difficult to see the deep fissure unless you were standing right over it.

The whole clearing was glowing gold in the sunset as you peered down the hole and had some dinner from the supplies you’d brought with you. You couldn’t see the bottom. How in the hell had Frisk survived that fall? Out of curiosity you nudged a pebble over the edge with your toe, listening for the bottom.

You gulped nervously when after a few moments you didn’t hear a sound.

Swatting away the hundredth mosquito and gulping down the last of your water bottle, you decided there was no time like the present. Or the past. You’d lost track of how many times that day you’d caught yourself confused at exactly what tense to use. From your bag you pulled a coil of cheap rope, fastening one end to the roots on the inner wall of the hole so it would be out of sight should anyone come across the clearing.

You tugged on it as hard as you could, putting as much weight onto the rope as possible to test the strength of the anchor. It didn’t budge. Content and feeling more adventurous than usual, you put on a pair of gloves to prevent rope burn and wrapped part of the coil around your hand. You were completely winging this, never climbing a rope in your life. All you had to you was a few movie scenes and you honestly doubted their accuracy.

Lowering yourself carefully down into the hole and bracing your legs against the rocky wall, you made your way down slowly. Your hand already ached at the pressure of the rope around it, and your fingers were starting to tingle. Shit. With your other hand you wrapped it in the rope a few times to swap hands before lowering yourself another foot.

Foot by foot, you slowly made your way down the hole. You had only about a hundred feet of rope, and from the darkness below you realized too late that it wasn’t going to cut it. Looking up towards the entrance, you could see a shaft of moonlight and some stars glittering far ahead.

“Fall limp,” you told yourself. “Don’t tense up. Don’t tense up. If they could do this, you can do this too.” You mentally prepared yourself to let go of the rope when your foothold was suddenly gone. The wall had angled outwards, leaving you suddenly dangling with no way to relieve the pressure on your hand. You blindly gripped with your knees and shoes for the rope, trying to get a better hold to lift yourself up.

“Fucknuggets!”

The pain in your hand was too much, and you released the rope, cringing as it snagged before uncoiling from your hand and leaving you pitching down into the black. You screamed and put all your focus into un-tensing your muscles, trying to twist in such a way that you could land in a roll like you’d seen in so many movies and video games.

For a split second as you fell you felt like you’d been dunked in ice water. The familiar feeling of being touched by magic filled your every pore, strangely comforting. And in that instant, the black below you dissolved into a sea of gold, rushing to meet you at a slower speed than you expected. Certainly still quickly, but you could feel the magic tugging at your core to slow your descent.

The impact was painful, but nowhere near as bad as you had expected. You would be bruised certainly, but nothing felt broken or sprained. If anything, your hand hurt more from the rope than the rest of you from your sudden interaction with the ground. Regardless, you were disoriented. Your vision was a burry mix of yellows, greens and browns.

Tugging your gloves off and sticking them in the pocket of your jeans, you pressed your bare fingertips to your closed eyes. The pressure was comforting, and you could see colored lights on the back of your eyelids pulsing in time to your accelerated pulse. After a few moments the colors slowed to a swirl, your heartbeat returning to a semi-normal state. You raises your head, your vision adjusting to the darkness. Looking up you could see the fall was actually much shorter than you’d thought originally. Moonlight streamed through the hole above, softly illuminating the patch of flowers you’d landed in.

You knew these, you thought to yourself as you carefully stood, trying to avoid damaging the patch any more than you already had. They were buttercups, Asgore’s favourite flower. The monster king had told you many times how his throne room had been full of the things, and Frisk had landed in a patch when they first reached the underground if you remembered correctly. Judging from the smaller indentation in the flower patch, that had already occurred.

You looked around, letting your eyes adjust to the dim light. It wasn't dark by any means, but you couldn't quite pin down where the light was coming from. The bright green and yellow of the flower patch seemed to almost glow when you took in the plain grey stone of the cave around you.

You couldn't believe you were actually in the underground and you chuckled nervously. There was no doubt in your mind that this was the single most impulsive and careless thing you had ever done in your life. But you weren't going to sit and do nothing. You had to find Sans.

There was only one way to go from there. You dusted the soft soil out of your clothes and hair, making your way down the corridor that branched off from the room you landed in, finding yourself at an archway leading to a truly dark room. In it was another patch of grass, illuminated by yet another unseen source. A single flower drooped in the grass, swaying rhythmically in a nonexistent breeze.

Dimly across the room you could make out another doorway, and as you started to walk through you heard it: what sounded like quiet mumbling coming from the flower. You realized that the flower wasn't swaying in a breeze, it was hunching over itself nursing what appeared to be a burnt petal. Quietly you inched closer, catching some snippets of language so colourful they'd cause a sailor to blush.

You knew who this was. In all the stories you'd heard from Frisk of the underground there had been only one talking flower mentioned, and from what you'd heard he was a nasty piece of work. You decided you should leave him to nurse his wound in peace and made to walk around his patch of grass, when a gnarled root caught you by the ankle. Rather than give him the satisfaction of watching you fall on your face you instead steadied yourself, crossed your arms and stared at the flower's back.

“Why did you come back,” he said sorely.

It startled you just how normal the voice coming from the flower was. He sounded like a child. You knew from Frisk’s stories that he used to be, but even still you weren’t expecting the flower’s voice to sound so young and bitter. You tugged your foot slightly, testing the strength of the root. Your foot didn’t budge.

The flower tensed at the tug, straightening and turning to face you with a tense smile, his eyes a little too wide. You had a feeling you weren’t who the former prince was expecting to see. His grin was slightly spoiled by the char mark on the side of his… head? Petals? You weren’t exactly an expert on talking flower anatomy.

“Oh! Hiya! I’m Flo-”

“How long ago did the kid come through?” You interrupted the flower without a second thought, tugging at your foot again and looking towards the door on the other side of the room. You didn’t have time for this. You had to find Sans.

“Oh wow, are you a friend of that other nifty human?” The flower’s expression briefly flashed between the cheery smile and a wary glare. “They're a good friend of mine, but first! You're new to the underground, aren'tcha? Golly, you must be so confused. Someone ought to teach you how things work around here!”

You rolled your eyes but your act of exasperation was interrupted by a familiar tingle and a tugging at your chest. You were _intimately_ familiar with the feeling. That little shit was trying to draw out your soul for a confrontation. Thankfully you didn’t spend three years dating a monster without learning a few tricks, even if you couldn’t use magic yourself. You grit your teeth at the effort, but you held your soul exactly where it was, inside of you, where it would be nice and safe.

The flower’s facade dropped, turning downright demonic. The tugging at your chest got considerably worse but you left your arms stubbornly crossed, a tickle trailing down your neck as a bead of sweat fell. You didn’t want to give the weed the satisfaction of seeing you squirm but this was the first time a monster had seriously tried to confront your soul. Sure Sans had practiced with you as a “just in case” self-defense scenario, but he had never tried full-out to pull your soul out without your consent. It wasn’t painful, but it was uncomfortable as hell.

“Look,” you said to the flower through your clenched jaw and gave another tug at your boot, looking towards the door again. Something Frisk had told you in confidence danced on the tip of your tongue and you glared down with all the fury you could muster at the flower. “I don’t have time for your bullshit right now, Asriel.”

At the mention of his former name the flower actually paled in surprise. You didn’t think that was possible for a plant. There was a relief in your chest as the tugging sensation stopped suddenly. “Let me through or I swear to fucking god I will dust you where you sta-... root.” It was an empty threat of course, you knew Frisk would need him later on in their adventure. But you hoped that having never met you the little flower wouldn’t be able to call your bluff.

His demonic face was replaced by one that resembled a frightened child, and the roots grasping your foot quickly slithered back into the soil. He looked absolutely terrified, in fact.

“You… You aren’t… But I’m not...” The flower withdrew into the soil partially as you took a threatening step forward, trying your hardest to look intimidating. “What are you?”

“One seriously pissed-off human. Now beat it, Asriel.”

He cringed again at the mention of his name, and with a sound that resembled shifting gravel the flower was gone. You gave in and grasped the front of your shirt, letting out a relieved sigh. You couldn’t help but feel that “Flowey” was perfectly capable of kicking your ass if he really wanted to and you really hadn’t wanted to test that theory.

After rotating your ankle a few times in an attempt to shoo off the heebie-jeebies creeping up your leg from the roots, you made your way through the doorway and into what you could only assume were the ruins where Toriel had lived for all those years. An almost violet glow lit the area, and the roof of the cavern was lined with some type of tree you didn’t recognize. Fallen leaves littered the floor, and the bricks lining the walkway were cracked and split by vines.

You moved forward cautiously. You hadn’t been told very many stories about the underground ruins and knew very little about them aside from the fact they were littered with puzzles. As you walked you took comfort in the sound of the water trickling through the channels set into the floor. You came across several contraptions that looked like they may have been traps or puzzles, but they had already been solved.

Well, that just made things a bit easier for you then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If the reader ever meets Flowey, you bet they're using future knowledge to their advantage! Fuck the timeline, ain't nobody got time for his bullshit." I've seriously had that encounter with Flowey planned out, word for word, since before I even came up with the Reader's reason for venturing to the underground. I recited it to myself in the shower for pete's sake.


	3. A Royal Welcome (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are determined to keep your soul to yourself, nice and safe.

After one obscenely long hallway you finally encountered something familiar to break up the silence and unknown. A lone Froggit sat in the path and looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Ribbit, ribbit.”

You had some experience with Froggits, there was a family of them living in the park near your apartment back home in the… future? Dammit. Focus, brain. You shook your head and turned your attention back to the Froggit, just as you felt a familiar tugging at your chest.

“I know your kind can’t speak English, but I hope you can understand me when I say that isn’t going to work. Can I pass, please?”

It was obvious that the Froggit meant you no harm, it seemed more curious than anything. Still, you were determined to keep your soul safe and out of harm’s way. The Froggit was nowhere near as strong as the flower, and it was easy to keep your soul in your chest despite the tugging. After a few moments the Froggit croaked and tilted its head to the side, obviously confused.

You gave it a smile and it hopped away, looking back at you every few seconds. This happened a few more times throughout the ruins with other monsters, and you even stopped to have a snack with a particularly chatty Loox who was delighted that you hadn’t picked on him. But no matter which monsters you ran into down there, the encounter went the same way. The monster would approach, try to get a look at your soul, then leave confused afterwards when they couldn’t start a confrontation with you.

The Loox had even come to the conclusion that since he couldn’t confront you there was no way you could be a human. (“I would know! I met a human before, you know! Can you believe it?”)

You continued past all the solved puzzles you came across, and even accepted some gold from a few monsters as an embarrassed apology “for mistaking you for a human.” You assumed it was the currency used down here and stuffed the tiny coins into your bag for later use, choosing to spend a few of them on cider and donut from a spider bake sale. You slipped up and asked the little ones how Muffet was doing without even thinking. The spiders hastily formed a smiley face as they skittered around taking your coins.

You sipped slowly at the cider as you travelled through the ruins, stopping only when you came across a large courtyard with a bare tree in the center. It looked about right, basing it off some of Frisk’s drawings from when they were a kid. That meant the building ahead of you had to be Toriel’s house, and along with it the exit from the Ruins. And after that, Sans. You hoped.

You were absolutely exhausted, but knowing you were so close to the exit and his smiling face filled you with the determination you needed to move forward. You cautiously eyed the windows for any sign of movement before you approached, keeping as silent as you could while gnawing on the last of your donut. No sign of anyone inside. It was night on the surface, perhaps they were asleep. The leaves crunched as you made your way to the doorway, testing as slowly as possible to see if the door was locked.

It wasn’t.

As much as you wanted to explore, you wanted to avoid fucking with Frisk’s adventure as much as possible. As soon as you were inside you found yourself in a sort of foyer, and the stairs down immediately caught your eye. You hoped that the stairs wouldn’t creak too badly as you made your way down, but the house was obviously old despite its tidy appearance. Each step was punctuated with a groan from the wood as you descended painfully slowly, hoping to avoid waking anyone in the house.

You were tired and dragging your feet at that point. In the corridor at the bottom of the stairs, you peeled off your boots once again to get some cool air on your blisters, which were starting to look particularly nasty. Every step sent what felt like fire shooting from your heels up as far as your knees. The cool draft floating down the hallway felt like heaven on the open skin. You cursed yourself for not thinking to bring a first-aid kit along for the trip.

You shivered and walked barefoot for the hall’s length to give your feet a break from those god-awful boots. You were so burning those boots when you got home. You replaced them with a pained hiss when you came to a large door. That, you thought to yourself, had to be the exit. It was emblazoned with that symbol Asgore and Toriel used all the time.

You gave it a shove, but it wouldn’t budge.

You shoved harder. No dice.

You put your back into it, putting all your weight against your palms. The door refused to budge. Resting your forehead against the cool stone of the door you ran your hand down the crack in the middle.

“There is a trick to it.”

“Oh, and what’s that?” You had responded without even thinking, but now a chill travelled up your spine. Your hands twitched against the door with one final, weak shove.

“Strength.”

You turned around slowly to see Toriel standing in a night-dress back the way you had come from. Her fur was ungroomed and matted from sleeping, her hands shaking as she moved her arms up to cross them. She looked down at you with that “I’m disappointed in you” look. It took you a moment to remember that Tori would have no idea who you were if what Sans had told you about resets was correct.

“I do not know who you are or why you are here,” she started in that same disappointed tone, confirming your suspicions. “I had heard some whispers from the monsters in the ruins this evening. A strange monster roaming around, someone none of them had met before.” She took a step forward. “But the ruins are sealed. Only a select few can enter this place. Spiders, mostly.” She took another step, bringing herself up to her full height. She was a few heads taller than you. Never did you think you would ever find that woman intimidating, but you had proven yourself wrong at that moment.

“You are a human. I can see that, even if you have somehow convinced the others differently. Please understand that I would be more welcoming if you had not been sneaking through my house in the middle of the night. Now please, come with me upstairs and we can discuss this over some pie by the fire. There is some left over from earlier today. My child will be happy to share, I am sure.”

“Y-your highness.” Her posture seemed to demand the use of her title, but at the words there was a seemingly dangerous glint in her eyes. You had found it hard before to believe that gentle Toriel had been a queen in the underground, but as she stood over you it was very, very believable. You had nothing but respect (and a little fear at that point) for the woman. “I just need to get on my way to Snowdin. Something very important to me is waiting there. Please just let me go.”

You could feel the tugging at your chest again, but it was different this time. Tender, gentle, but firm at the same time. You supposed you could tell a lot about a monster from the magic they used. Regardless of the comfort flowing through you at the touch of her magic, your soul held fast. Toriel’s eyebrows raised again and the tugging became more insistent.

“Please, just let me go. Toriel, please.” For the second time that day the pulling became uncomfortable, almost painful. She seemed determined to see your soul for herself.

“Toriel?”

The tugging stopped and her eyes narrowed. Leaning down and cupping your chin in her palm, she looked you in the eyes. Her expression was impossible to read.

“I formally request permission to examine your soul, young one.”

“What?” That was certainly not what you were expecting.

“I do not know what you are doing to contain your soul, but I would like to ease your worries. I would never harm you. As I requested, I simply wish to examine your soul. I would know that you are capable of holding your own out there.” She gestured with her free hand to the door.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I…” You steeled yourself and gently placed your fingers against the furry hand on your face. “I can’t do that, I’m sorry. Please understand. I just really need to go.” You gave a gentle push to lower her palm from your chin and she did not resist, standing straight again and looking fatigued.

“You certainly seem full of determination, young one. Very well. Perhaps it is best that you snuck through my home as you did. I would not want my child to…”

You looked up at her with the most reassuring smile you could, a trick you learned from Sans. “I’ll be gone and I won’t come back. They never need to know I was here, if that’s what’s best for ‘em.”

Toriel suddenly became seemingly self-conscious of how messy her fur was, patting and smoothing it nervously as she made her way around you to the door. You thought it was adorable, you’d never seen her like this. “This is as far as I will go, child, but the second gate will open for you without effort. Please,” She gave the door a good shove and it opened with a groan. “Please, keep your soul safe. Keep your chin up. They have good hearts, they are just… Misguided.”

You nodded and with an exhausted sigh, the queen of monsters turned and walked back towards the house.

“It will close behind you. Be quick. And do not return.”

With that she was gone, and you didn’t even have time to thank her properly. A cold draft seeped through the door as you turned toward the new pathway, goosebumps rising on your skin. You shuffled through and into the hall beyond, the large door closing behind you as Toriel had promised.

“Yoo hoo~!” You cringed as you heard the flower’s voice drifting down the hallway, but the only way to go from here was forward. As you approached another patch of green you steadied yourself, putting on your best “I don’t have time for this bullshit” face.

“Asriel,” you nodded to the flower with a glare as you entered the room proper, resting your fists on your hips. The first thing you noticed about him this time around was his complete lack of burns. You supposed monsters healed quickly, as it had only been a few hours. “I thought you were going to be staying out of my way?”

The flower flinched but looked up at you with a beaming smile.

“Would you look at that, not a speck of dust on you! I guess Mom fell for your little trick too, huh?” His expression shifted into something more sinister. “I feel the need to correct you. My name is Flowey. Flowey the flower. Only one person is allowed to call me that other name, and you certainly don’t fit their description.” You stood your ground as vines slowly crawled up your legs, coiling tightly around you. The tugging in your chest was back and you fought to keep your soul exactly where it was. “But since you seem to know so much about me already, it’s only fair that I learn a bit about you in return.”

His face contorted into a wicked visage with black, hollow eyes and a twisted smile as the vines twisted around your throat. They were covered in dull thorns, digging into your flesh but not hard enough to break the skin. You tried, and failed, to swallow. You could barely breathe. Every spark of your being was focused on holding on to your soul and preventing the confrontation, but your vision was going spotty.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, you found yourself laying in the grass.

Flowey was gone, as were his vines. You sat up, trying to regulate your breathing as you searched the room for some clue as to what had just happened. A chilly draft danced on your skin, the hair on your arms rising with goosebumps.

“Don’t worry,” the voice came from nowhere and everywhere as you scrambled off of the grass towards the stone floor. Your tough act had cracked and tears streamed down your face as you booked it for the massive stone archway, which had already started to open on your approach. “It’s been far too long since a new element was added to our little game. This could be fun!”

As you ran panicked through the doorway and into the snow, you heard Flowey cackling menacingly from the room behind you.

You had to find Sans.


	4. Sans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mild hypothermia is a bitch. So is karma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell 100 Kudos when did that happen. Guess I HAVE to keep writing now, eh?

It was snowing.

You were running for a good five minutes before the cold registered, your bare arms aching as the sheen of sweat coating them began to freeze. With a glance back through the trees you stopped and bent double, the icy air stinging your lungs as you attempted to catch your breath.

It was actually snowing down here. How was that even possible?

You shrugged your bag off your shoulders and tugged your jacket free of the various supplies you had packed that morning. Yesterday morning? What time was it? Your phone had run out of charge a few hours into your adventure in the ruins, and you very much regretted not keeping it off unless necessary. Looking up all you could see was darkness and softly falling snow. There were no stars, no sky. You frowned.

In the ruins, surrounded by stone and architecture, you could at least hold on to the feeling you were indoors. But past the ruins door there were trees and snow as far as the eye could see. The air smelled crisp, exactly how it did on the surface on days when it was going to snow. It was beautiful, but without a sky to contrast it the image was also unsettling.

You pulled the fabric of the thin coat closer to your body and shivered. At least you had thought to bring something with sleeves. Shouldering your bag once more and wiping the sleep from your eyes, you looked down the path. Snowdin had to be that way.

There were a lot of stories you could remember Frisk and Papyrus telling you about the woods and Snowdin. Unfortunately none of them were in enough detail for you to know exactly where you were going as you walked down the trail. Snow was melting in your boots as you walked, chilling your socks and putting you nearly in tears when it came into contact with the raw blisters on your heels. You tugged your gloves out of your pocket and shoved your chilled fingers into them. This fucking sucked.

You walked for what seemed like forever, the bitter cold the only thing keeping you awake as you focused on the sound of snow crunching underfoot. Your thoughts wandered in sleepy daydreams, remembering your time with Sans and how everything would be fine again once you made it to town. You were angry at Frisk for resetting. The kid must have had a damn good reason, but if it had anything to do with that other kid from their math class you swore to yourself you were going to strangle them.

Five years were too important to throw away over a fucking high-schooler.

A sigh left your lips for the hundredth time as you approached a partially frozen creek with some sort of gate constructed over the bridge. You couldn’t help but giggle at the poor excuse for a barrier as you slipped through the wide beams. Whatever that thing was crafted to contain or block must be huge. That, or it was just poorly made. Now that you thought about it, the gate had “Papyrus, sentry extraordinaire” written all over it.

You weren’t sure if you should be thankful or worried that you couldn’t really feel the cold any more. In fact, you almost felt warm. Maybe it was just because the initial shock had worn off and there was no wind to speak of. Or maybe you were just going to freeze to death.

You were distracted in your thoughts. So much so, that when the sound of something dropping into the snow hit your ears it didn’t register at first. But when it did, you sleepily looked up to see a ketchup bottle in the snow.

And next to it, a pair of house slippers, conveniently containing a pair of skeletal feet.

Your vision trailed up, your tired and cold-addled brain lagging behind as you took in the sight of the skeleton ahead of you. Sockets wide and pupils so small they were nearly invisible, Sans was standing next to a wooden structure on the side of the path. His hand was still held in front of him, fingers twitching slightly trying to grab a bottle that they were no longer wrapped around. He wasn’t smiling.

One step, another, another, faster and faster. It had only been a day but it felt like years. His pupils darted quickly between your face and your gloves, studying you as you approached. In the back of your mind you knew you must look like a mess, covered in snow and the bruises from your fall and encounter with the flower. You didn’t care. He was here.

You ran to hug him, nearly tripping in the snow, as he stood there frozen in surprise. Ignoring the cold fabric you grabbed him and pulled him in close, bones poking at you through the coat.

“that’s certainly an interesting way to greet a new pal.” It was a few moments before you realized he hadn’t moved other than to look down at you, a sarcastic smirk on his face. “are all humans this affectionate? a handshake would have been my go-to personally.” A hand patted your shoulder gently and your own smile faded slightly. This was no time to be joking.

“You insensitive _bonehead_ , that’s not funny.”

He cocked his head to the side and chuckled at the pun, giving a defeated shrug as he untangled your fingers from his coat and took a step away from you. The look he was giving you hurt, like he was trying to think up what to do with you. You could understand his surprise, but did he have to be so obvious about it?

“give me a break kiddo, i didn’t have any time to prepare new material. i wasn’t expecting company tonight.”

“Christ, Sans.” You took a step towards him but he stepped back in sync. “I know you weren’t expecting to see me but you’re being a dick right now.”

“don’t remember mentioning my name, kid.” His eyes narrowed and his eye flared blue for a moment as he appraised you, snow-filled hair head to frozen toes. You were getting sick of this game and lunged forward trying to grab him, but he sidestepped. You just wanted a hug goddammit. You were cold.

“Sans,” Lunge. Dodge. “Sans!” Lunge. Dodge. “This isn’t fucking _funny_ , Sans.”

“i have to agree.” His tone was deadly serious as he dodged around you in a dizzying flurry, appraising you. You couldn’t take this. You were too tired, too cold, and too pissed off to deal with his bullshit right now. You stopped trying to reach out for him and slumped to the snow, ignoring the cold against your jeans. You sniffled, your nose a faucet between the cold and the tears running down your cheeks again.

“Why are you being such an ass?”

“can’t be what i don’t have, kid. i appreciate that you’re cold but i’m not a hand-sy person. it really gets under my _skin_.” you blinked stupidly up at him as he stood at a bit of a distance, hands in the pockets of his coat. His eye was flaring up, a thin stream of magic flowing up out of his socket and mingling with the falling snow. “i get that you’re confused, kiddo. but this is new ground for me too.”

“But Sans,” you protested, bile threatening your throat as you suddenly felt ill. He didn’t know you. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. You were supposed to show up, surprise him, cheer him up. You hadn’t worked out the specifics but after that you’d help Frisk save the underground or something. But he was looking at you like you were completely foreign.

“You’re supposed to… _remember me?”_ Your voice cracked at the last words, coming out in a barely-audible whisper. You hated yourself right now. You were the strong one, yet here you were sitting in the snow shivering and crying like a child.

Sans’ eyes blinked out completely, the sockets a black void that contrasted with the cream of his skull and the white snow. You realized his hands were shaking, if the quivering of his elbows were any indication. “and what exactly am i supposed to remember?” You could tell from his cautious tone that he was testing you. You searched through the stories he’d told you after confiding in you about the timelines, hunting for some hint or tidbit you could use to convince Sans that you weren’t some lunatic human lost in the underground by chance.

Suddenly, you remembered a joke Sans had told you. A way he’d intended to prank Frisk across time and space once. But, no. Oh so help you, if this whole forgetful act was just a ploy to make you say that you were going to kill him. You wiped your eyes on your sleeve and took a deep breath, looking up at Sans with a glare that could curdle milk. It must have been intense, because he involuntarily took a step back and a blue flush rose up his cheeks.

“You’re supposed to remember that I...” You resisted the urge to finish the sentence with _want to kill you right now_. “You’re supposed to remember that I am the _**legendary fartmaster**_.”

Your declaration was punctuated by a strangled noise from Sans, as if he was trying to suppress a laugh. But he was actually twitching, his grin somewhere between confusion and amusement. He wasn’t doing this on purpose then. If he had, that would have been the punchline. He would be laughing, not fighting it. You would have still killed him, but at least then he would have remembered who you were.

As Sans struggled to think up an appropriate reaction to your statement, you looked down into the snow and realized you didn’t feel like crying any more. You felt cold. Distant. Angry. Ashamed. Tired. But mostly cold. You supposed that as soon as you stopped actively moving, your body had decided it was time for sleep. Whatever it was that had held your cold tolerance up had dissipated as well and the numb tingling in your fingers felt more like fire than freezing. You brought them up to your face and pushed your warm breath through the fabric. It didn’t help.

  
*****

  
He didn’t break the awkward silence as he pushed his way out of his coat, staring intently at the human shivering in front of his sentry post. He had gotten a feeling that this reset might get interesting when Frisk hadn’t come out from the ruins at the usual time, but some timelines they decided to stay a few nights with Toriel before venturing out to greet him.

He was expecting something, maybe to be greeted by little Frisk covered in dust, as happened occasionally.

But this?

This was _new_. One hundred percent new. He couldn’t even think up a proper joke to lighten the mood.

The human looked pretty crushed. He didn’t know what she had been through to get to him, but whatever it was she seemed to think he should know her. She’d even known his _secret secret triple-secret codeword_. Part of him wondered if this was a Frisk from another timeline entirely. If perhaps she’d messed up a reset and ended up in his timeline instead. The thought boggled his mind a bit as the multiple-universes thing was only a theory he’d been toying with, but at this point anything was possible.

This was something- some _one_ new.

That just didn’t happen. It was always the same cast with a different script.

“come on, kiddo.” He draped his coat over the human’s shoulders and slipped an arm under her knees, supporting her back and lifting her up. He grunted at the effort. This human was considerably heavier than Frisk. Through the bulk of two coats he could feel her radiating cold. “shit. let’s get you outta this snow, huh?”

She nuzzled into him, shivering. He could feel magic rising in his face as he shifted her so that she had more coat between her and his chest. “You shouldn’t t-take me home,” she muttered into the coat. “P-Papy’ll have a fit if he sees a human…” He thought for a moment. Whoever this girl was, she had the right idea of things.

“i can think of someone who won’t have the _hearth_ to turn you away at this time of night.”

“Fire p-pun?” She chuckled weakly and he could feel the blush on his cheeks deepening. “We goin’ t-to Grillby’s? I’ve always wanted to see the… the underground v-version.”

He caught himself at that. She’d never been to Grillby’s? Not Frisk, then. “yeah, that was the plan.” What was this chick’s deal? Underground version? Was she a surface dweller? A bead of sweat dripped down the side of his skull. Was she from a timeline where they’d all gotten out? Where they’d _stayed_ out?

“C-could we take a shortcut? I’m chilled to the _b-bone_ here.”

He snapped out of his thoughts and back to the shivering human in his arms. With a flare of blue he shifted, and found himself outside the door to the bar.

“already there, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You buggers sitting there calling it in the comments. I love you. Your comments sustain me. 
> 
> I AM SO SORRY. T_T
> 
> I swear there is happy-warm-fuzzies coming up!


	5. After Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You need to heat up, in the most literal sense.

As cold as you were, you were comfortable. The coat smelled like Sans. _Sans_ smelled like Sans. Your exhausted brain was finding comfort in every move he made while he carried you, even with the bones of his arm digging into your back. It had only been a day, but you felt like it had been forever.

Your senses were suddenly assaulted with the smell of cigar smoke and grease. It wasn’t completely unpleasant, but it drowned out the smell of Sans and sleepy-you was not happy with that. Looking up from the coat, you couldn’t see much. The lights were out, the only light in the bar coming from a fluorescent sign on the far wall.

“hey grillbz, you still up back there?” Sans shouted towards the bar and set you down gently into a booth. You pulled his coat in closer to yourself trying to warm up, trying to ignore the building tingle in your limbs. You always hated the feeling of going from cold to warm. It was the pins and needles from hell.

Taking in the bar, you couldn’t quite understand its charm. Sans always got a fond glimmer in his eyes when he spoke about this place, but from what you could see it was little more than a regular dive. The leather on the booths was cracked and the tables were worn down. You supposed it had character, likely more so when it was actually open and full of people.

The room was suddenly brighter as you heard a door open behind you, but you were too exhausted to bother turning around. The glow moved in the corner of your vision, and you could hear a slight crackling as what you assumed was Grillby approached the booth.

“yeah bud, i know you’re closed. don’t get too _heated_ but i need a favor.” Sans gestured in your general direction. It stung a bit that he was talking about you that way. Grillby came into vision, peering around the back of the booth to get a good look at you huddled on the bench. You raised a gloved hand and gave a small wiggle of your fingers.

Grillby looked strange out of uniform. You were used to seeing him in your time, always sharply dressed behind the bar in the establishment he ran along with his niece. But here he was in nothing but a pair of sweatpants and glasses. He nodded at you politely and turned back to Sans, crossing his arms over his chest as the flames on his head danced menacingly.

“i know the _grill_ is cold and it’s after hours, but could you at least make up a _hot_ drink for the kid? she got caught in the snow and i can’t exactly take her back to my place.” Grillby didn’t move. “you know how my brother gets.” The elemental dropped his hands down to his hips. “nah, i’ll get her a room at the hotel. appreciate the offer though.” With a defeated shrug Grillby gestured to you, obviously asking if you were what he thought you were. You were getting a bit sick of them talking as if you weren’t there.

“yeah, it might be best if we don’t talk about that.”

You rolled your eyes and cleared your throat. The two monsters jumped slightly and looked over to you. “Sorry for intruding after-hours.” You peeled your gloves off as you spoke, the soggy cloth was making it difficult to warm up. “And to answer your question Grillby, yes I am a human.”

The flames on Grillby’s face flared a greenish-blue as he ducked his head and gestured out an apology. He hadn’t meant to offend you. He cautiously offered you a drink on the house as well as a pot of coffee as an apology for being rude. Sans started to translate but you cut him off.

“That would be great, I really appreciate it. Have anything that goes good _in_ the coffee? I’ve got to be running on at least 24 hours awake at this point.” If the headache tugging at your temples was any indication, you were going to sleep like the dead when you finally got around to it. You felt a bit more awake now that your limbs felt like they were being pierced by a thousand needles, but the coffee couldn’t hurt. The bartender nodded and walked off toward the back again. You were painfully aware of how wet your clothes were now that the snow had all melted off.

“so you seem to have a pretty good grasp on how things work down here, huh.”

You shook your head carefully so as not to aggravate your growing headache. “Not really. Mostly going off stories you guys told me over the years.” One of his brow ridges raised at the word ‘years’. You could tell there were a thousand questions he wanted to ask. “I’ve never been here before.”

He was your Sans, you were sure of it. You could feel it in your soul. You slid a condiment bottle across the table towards him, which he graciously accepted with a chuckle. He smiled the same, fake-smiled the same, laughed the same. Why couldn’t he remember you? And why was he being so quiet?

“You should go get some sleep, I’ll be okay.” His eyes were fixated on the ketchup and you felt the need to break the uncomfortable silence. You could hear the clinking of glass and ceramic behind you as Grillby got the coffee ready. “Frisk was asleep when I left the ruins, you should have a few hours before you need to keep an eye out again.” You dropped your voice as you heard Grillby approach again. “Don’t want to _completely_ fuck the timeline, right?”

A tray with a coffee pot, three drinks, and a two mugs slid onto the table with a rattle as Grillby slipped into the booth beside you. He looked over to you as if asking if his company was unwelcome, and you smiled, already appreciating the warmth radiating from the monster. With an approving nod, he poured the coffee and slid a mug each to you and Sans, as well as one each of the drinks. He held the last glass up with a “cheers” motion and downed the contents in one go which caused the flames around where his mouth should have been to flare up ridiculously bright.

You chuckled softly and gave the contents of your glass a sniff. Whatever it was, it was clear and smelled faintly of chocolate. Dabbing a bit on your finger and giving it a taste, you came to the conclusion that Grillby was a fucking genius. Noticing that he had only given you a half-full coffee you dumped the entire glass into the mug and swirled it a bit to mix.

Grillby reclined in the booth, reaching back and putting an arm around your shoulders. The heat was a bit more intense but certainly not unwelcome in your current state. Sans choked on his ketchup and slammed the bottle down on the table, looking at his friend with wide eyes.

“since when are you all buddy buddy with other patrons? i’m hurt, grillbz. jealous, even.”

Grillby leaned forward on the bench with a crackle, causing you to be pulled with him. He held up a single finger which sparked dangerously. Firstly, you were freezing. He raised a second finger. Second, he was literally made of fucking fire. You chuckled. Okay, so he couldn’t swear. But you liked to imagine the little pops of emphasis on his gesture were an indication of profanity. Thirdly, he gestured to Sans with three fingers held up and made a few little motions you took a second to interpret.

“yeah, so what if i’ve only made three puns since i got here?”

Grillby’s head tilted to the side and downwards, giving Sans a look over his glasses that practically screamed _“You’re kidding, right?”_

You snorted into your coffee. “He’s got you pegged, Sans.” The skeleton was a flourescent blue and quite obviously frustrated at the concept of his best friend and a complete stranger ganging up on him like you two were doing. “Look,” you were feeling considerably warmer with Grillby pulling you in towards him. “Sans, Grill’s known you long enough to tell when you’re upset. So have I.” Grillby gave you a questioning look at that but didn’t interrupt.

“Go get some rest, get your smile back up so you don’t worry Papy sick in the morning. After all, you have to get back to your sentry post in a few hours, _don’t you?_ ”

You realized a second too late that you were talking to an empty booth.

“I hate it when he does that mid-conversation. Thanks for heating me up a bit, Grillby.”

You crossed your arms and shrugged his off of you. He shifted himself to the other side of the booth so he didn’t have to crane his neck to look at you. You felt much better now that you’d warmed up a bit and gave him a tired smile. As much as the coffee was taking the edge off your brain-fog, your body still felt like you’d been hit by a truck.

He leaned forward quizzically, and you could tell pretty easily what he was asking of you.

“Ah, shit. N-no, you and I haven’t actually met. And before you ask, no I really can’t tell you.” He leaned back and crossed his own arms against his chest, his flames making a soft crackle you could only interpret as a sigh. You were suddenly painfully aware of the fact that he was out of uniform and averted your eyes. For some reason seeing Grillby without his usual vest and bowtie just felt _wrong_. You seriously felt like you were intruding on his pajama time.

“I’m sorry. I know the last thing you need is two cryptic and vague idiots to worry about.” He shook his head and shrugged. There was nothing he could do about that. He could tell you seemed mostly capable of handling yourself but he was worried about how Sans was acting tonight. He wasn’t the sort to act so distracted. He wondered how well you knew him, but raised his hands before you could utter an excuse.

He wouldn’t pry. He knew better.

You finished the rest of your coffee in silence, reaching to take Sans’ untouched mug afterwards. Grillby sat across from you to keep you company. It was a while before you felt the familiar tingle of magic as Sans appeared behind you.

“come on kid, there’s a room at the snowed inn waiting for ya.” He hung a hand over the back of the booth and gestured for you to finish your drink. You flinched at his detached tone. He was treating you like a child again. Grillby shook his head and shuffled out of his seat, gathering the dishes back onto the tray. He nodded to you with a happy crackle and walked back past Sans without even a glance in his direction. You blinked stupidly at the interaction (or lack thereof). You had no idea how to interpret that.

Sans grabbed your backpack from beside you and swung it over his shoulder with a grunt. “come on, let’s go.” You stood, every muscle protesting at the effort. His other hand was still outstretched and as much as you wanted to take it, you searched his face for some hint that it was more than just a shortcut offer. His grin was strained and tired-looking, and he misunderstood your hesitation.

“it’s ‘prolly best if nobody sees you walking through town just yet. being a human and all. i know a shortcut.”

With a frustrated sigh you took his hand and closed your eyes, prepared for the shift.

  
*****

  
When you opened your eyes again you were in a room with garish orange wallpaper and bright lighting. You swiftly released Sans’ hand and brought your own to your eyes with a hiss. Compared to the dim of the closed bar, the lights here were painfully bright. When your eyes adjusted, you took in your surroundings properly. Panelling, cheesy painting over the bed, bright orange and yellow color scheme. It wasn’t the Hilton but it would have to do.

Sans dropped your bag on the table and leaned back against it, clearing his throat and gesturing to his jacket on your back. He wasn’t making eye contact, the light from his pupils casting dark shadows under his eyes as he looked everywhere in the room but at you. His hands hovered around his midsection, like he was unsure of what to do with them when he had no pockets.

With a sigh you shrugged the jacket off and tossed it at him. “You look about as tired as I feel.” He caught the jacket and threw it on, popping his hands back into its pockets with a relieved sigh.

You peeled your still-wet coat and shirt off in one motion, draping them over the footboard of the bed to dry. It took Sans a few moments to realize you were stripping down before he hastily pulled his hood up and tugged the drawstrings tight, cinching the hood down over his eyes in a comical manner and turning his head away for good measure. “jeeze kid, really? don’t you have any modesty?”

You paused in the middle of unhooking your bra and felt heat rising up your chest and face. In your excitement to be out of those wet clothes you had completely forgotten this Sans didn’t know you. The stunned silence was interrupted by a chorus of loud snoring from the next room.

“S-sorry…” You covered yourself with one arm and reached around him for your backpack, unzipping it and pulling out a battered but thankfully dry sleep set of a shirt and shorts. Tugging it over your head and sitting on the edge of the bed you made to take your boots off, but yelped when you remembered just how bad the blisters on your heels were. Sans jumped at the sound and made a sudden movement towards you, the hood falling back and the motion.

“you ok?” His sockets widened at the sight of the blood on your socks. “shit,” he whispered, composing himself and straightening up, moving back to lean against the table while shooting you a concerned glance. You just stared at him dumbstruck. Son of a bitch, he _did_ care. You smiled as he noticed you staring and flushed blue again, looking away.

“I’m sorry for all this.”

He flinched again. You took his looking away again as an opportunity to shimmy out of your pants and underwear, placing them with your shirt and jacket to dry. You pulled the shorts on and brought your feet up onto the bed, examining the damage to your heels. The blisters were pretty bad, but despite looking raw they didn’t hurt so bad as long as you kept from touching them.

“I really don’t know what to say, other than apologizing.”

He didn’t move.

“This isn’t how I wanted any of this to go. I thought you’d be happy to see me. I wanted you to have someone with you who could remember the past few years. I couldn’t stand the thought of you being all alone with your thoughts down here. It was impulsive and stupid. If you could remember me you’d ‘prolly be yelling at me right now.”

He still hadn’t moved. You decided you didn’t care why, so long as he was listening. The bed was comfortable, but the coffee in your system helped you to resist the urge to collapse into the comforter.

“Look,” your voice cracked, heat rising up your face and your chest tight, your heart beating a thousand miles a minute. “You may not remember it, and I don’t want to pressure you, but you and I are an item.” You raise your hands and cross your fingers. There was no point in dancing around it. Maybe you could jog his memory. “Together. A couple. Have been for years.” You could feel the tears brimming again but you stubbornly held them back with a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m not saying this to guilt you, or to try and get that back.”

Shit, that hurt more to say than you had thought it would.

“I’m telling you this so that you at least know why I… I might slip up on occasion. You’re a bonehead but I love you, and that can’t just go away overnight.” You made yourself flinch, the words out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. You left your disappointment that he _had_ forgotten it overnight unspoken.

He finally turned to you at that and you jumped at the expression on his face. He looked… angry. Angry at you? Angry at himself? You weren’t sure. You backpedaled, trying to recover the one-sided conversation without making yourself look like more of an idiot than you already had.

“If that makes you uncomfortable then I’ll just back off and leave you alone, I’m sorry. I just wasn’t prepared to fucking lose you. For now maybe we should just focus on making sure the kid makes it through everything okay this time around, how does that sou-”

“you don’t get it, do you?”

His voice was hollow and you shook your head in response. The annoyance in his voice was very clear, as if you were the one in the wrong here. You didn’t blame him of course. You were angry at this whole thing too. You could only imagine how confused he must have been.

“i’m not your sans. i know how hard that must be to accept but in this timeline we have never been on the surface for more than a day or two at most. things may blur together but i think i would remember having a girlfriend on the surface. sorry to disappoint.”

He wasn’t even cracking any jokes. He was deadly serious, and that tugged at your heartstrings something fierce. Swinging your legs off the bed and standing shakily, you slowly walked over and pulled him into a hug. He let you, but didn’t return it.

“What if…” You were reluctant to overwhelm him, but you couldn’t stand him thinking of you as just another time-lost human. You placed your fingers on his cheek and turned his face so that he was looking at you. His face was warm, familiar. You resisted the urge to kiss him.

“What if I could prove it?”

His expression faltered and he was suddenly gone from your arms. You didn’t bother looking around, you could hear the floor creak where he was now standing across the room. At least he hadn’t left outright. You took another deep breath to settle your nerves.

“Here and now, what if I could provide you with undeniable proof that I’m yours? Or more specifically,” You turned towards him slowly, trying to gauge the mix of curiosity and discomfort on his face. “What if I could prove that you’re _my_ Sans? That I’m not delusional when I say _osseous_ together?” You cringed mentally at the pun, but the corners of his mouth twitched up. Despite still looking cautious, he crossed his arms and sat down on the bed, looking absolutely exhausted.

“... fuck it. i’m all _ears_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These fics need more Grillby. What is it about bartenders that makes them the best type of people? Or monsters, in this case.
> 
> Seriously though, I hate writing Sans like this, but when you live through the same few scenarios a few hundred times and suddenly something different comes along... I imagine that would be pretty disorienting, when your reactions to people are usually calculated and practiced. Like a comic with no fresh material. Takes time to get back into the groove of things. 
> 
> Sans! Stop being a gloomy butt!


	6. Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans promises he won't freak out. 
> 
> Sans freaks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another split chapter, but I'm not part-one-part-two-ing this one.
> 
> Another reminder that I can always be contacted with any comments or ideas of things YOU want to see in the story on my lit tumblr: http://faranaelit.tumblr.com/
> 
> Or you can come sin with me on the main blog: http://faranae.tumblr.com/

You ignored the sleepy fog tugging at the corners of your mind as you maneuvered to sit in the middle of the bed, realizing that the caffeine was already losing its edge. You patted the comforter in front of you and Sans kicked off his slippers, sitting cross-legged in front of you. The expression on his face was wary again, the fake smile painfully obvious. He was humoring you, you realized. There was no way he believed you could actually provide proof, and he was humoring you.

“ _tibia_ -nest this is frustrating,” He adjusted himself on the bed uncomfortably. He was punning again, you noticed. You were glad. “what will it take to get it through your thick _skull_ that i’m not who you think i am?”

You put your hands in your lap and sat up straight, flashing back to the first few times you had done this with Sans. Back then, you had been the one who was confused and nervous, and more than a bit skeptical. Sans had been comforting and calm, wanting to share a tender moment with you. The roles had been reversed. Your motives were more selfish than his had been, but it would have to do.

“Before we start this… So you don’t freak out completely, I want to show you something.”

You reached forward and took his hands in yours, flinching as he instinctively tried to pull away before catching himself. He let his arms go limp and you guided his palms to the center of your ribcage over your shirt. His bones were warm. You sighed at the contact.

“Now pull.”

His brow cocked up lop-sidedly in his version of raising an eyebrow.

“Come on,” you bit your lip nervously. “Do the soul thing. Not a confrontation-” You felt the need to clarify that. A confrontation was very different from viewing a soul. When a confrontation occurred there were rules to the magic. Both parties involved were vulnerable. Physically viewing a soul, however, had no such limitations. It was a personal and dangerous act.

“Just pull it out. I can’t do it on my own.” Your hands were shaking now, holding his palms to your chest like that. He was so close, but so far away at the same time. You found it difficult to keep yourself reigned in. To take this moment as seriously as you needed to, for his sake. He looked up at you with wide sockets as if you had suddenly sprouted a second head.

“i’m not entirely comfortable doing that, kid.” He left his hands in yours but you could feel them shaking as he tried to resist pulling them back. “that’s some pretty personal stuff, ya know? it’s not worth proving a point. i’m having a _heart_ enough time trying to let you down easy here.” His tone was nervous, but he had slipped another pun in there. You weren’t sure if you could work that in your favor, but the cool blue flush on his cheekbones suggested you could.

“If this doesn’t work I will one-hundred-percent believe that you aren’t my Sans, I promise.” You tried to give him a little nudge, using his firm belief against him. It was uncomfortable playing his emotions like that, but you needed this to work or you would never convince him that he was your Sans until it was too late. “I’m sure. Just _do it_ , bone-boy.”

There were beads of sweat forming on his skull as he nervously drew his hands back from your chest. The magic was electric, nothing like that of the monsters in the Ruins, or Toriel’s. You let your hands fall to your side and focused on the feeling of his magic touching you, familiar and comfortable.

Until that moment you hadn't noticed that with each of the monsters in the ruins, the magic had felt like a one-sided tugging which was different from what you were used to. With Sans you had always felt your soul pulling eagerly towards his hands, as it was trying to do now.

And then you stopped it from leaving your chest.

Sans grunted and his brow furrowed as he gave the magic another light tug. He looked up at you quizzically without letting go of your soul, but you simply tilted your head to the side and met his gaze with a questioning smile. It took some effort, but as far as you could tell you gave no outward sign that you were doing anything to hinder his efforts.

“well that’s certainly...”

The tugging grew and grew as he exerted himself. Your heartbeat was rushing in your ears as your pulse quickened. He was so close, but you needed to let this happen. You needed to get a point across. He pulled and pulled, forcefully but still gentle enough to avoid doing any damage. His sockets widened and the lights of his eyes glinted with what you could only classify as determination as he worked his magic this way and that, forcing his magic to pull at you in different concentrations and locations.

You let out a content sigh as the magic ebbed, Sans’ hands dropping to the bed. He looked up at you with a tired but amused grin.

“i tried to teach that trick to frisk a few times.” He shook his head. “it was only a theory of course that humans could even pull it off. i mean, right amount of human determination can have some interesting effects.” His left hand raised a few inches but then dropped back to the bed as his expression sunk back to what seemed like disappointment.

“unfortunately for you though, i’m not convinced. sorry kid.”

You smiled and shook your head.

“We’re not done yet, bone boy. Do it again. And uh,” Your smile faded. “Don’t freak out, okay?”

Squinting at you suspiciously Sans raised his palms once again to your chest and you felt the magic building with a mutter of “i’m not that easy to _rattle_ , kiddo” under his breath. This time however, you did not put any effort into restraining your soul. There was a sudden feeling of emptiness in your chest as the space in front of his hands distorted. A soft purple glow preceded the appearance of a stylized heart in front of your chest, growing brighter as it materialized.

You didn’t think you would ever get used to seeing your own soul. It was no bigger than your fist and pulsed with a lilac purple glow. The heart itself reminded you of smooth, polished amethyst, dark yet vivid. The surface looked solid enough but you knew if you touched it the surface would split and ripple like liquid mercury. You studied it closely for a moment, looking for something as Sans stared at it with a bewildered look on his face.

Ah, there it was.

“Sans, I’m just going to say this one more time. Don’t freak out, okay?”

Reaching forward you cupped the soul gently in your palms without actually touching it. It moved with your hands, hovering a few inches above them as you pulled it closer to you. Sans watched you with an expression of wonder. It warmed your heart to see this side of him again rather than the suspicious and distant ass that had been keeping you company for the past few hours. You wiggled a finger to draw his attention to a discolored spot floating towards the base of the heart and he leaned in to get a closer look, eyes practically sparkling with curiosity.

A mostly-transparent film drifted slowly on the heart’s surface like an oil slick. The spot was no bigger than a coin. The colors shifted in a pretty iridescent blue dance as it moved. Sans’ hands lowered to rest on his knees as he watched it glide over the surface of your soul.

“I’d like to illustrate a point, Sans.” Your voice was deathly quiet as you pulled your soul closer to yourself and away from his face. You had to stifle a giggle when the motion caused Sans to realize just how far forward he was leaning and he straightened up stiffly with a blush. You braced yourself, bringing your thumb in towards the film. It quivered as your digit grew closer, threatening to shift away from your touch but staying put as you paused over it.

“kid, is that a bruise or a…” Sans suddenly shifted uncomfortably as your finger hovered over the spot. Sweat was beading on his skull and the blush on his face had been replaced by an anxious grimace. His hand was frozen in place, half reaching towards you. His pupils were so small you could barely tell they were there. “th-that’s a bruise right?”

Your digit hovered a fraction of an inch over the spot.

“No,” you bit your lip and gave him your most apologetic smile. “It’s a stain.” His pupils flickered out completely as he lunged forward to grab your arm.

 

  
*****

 

  
Blinded by his own curiosity, it had taken Sans a few moments to notice the tingling in his spine as her hands hovered over the strange iridescent cyan spot on the violet manifestation of her soul. But as she moved her thumb closer and the sensation grew more pronounced he came to a rather unsettling realization: He was directly feeling her proximity to it.

No, he couldn’t be. He bolted upright stiffly, eyes transfixed on her hands as she brought her soul in closer to herself.

“kid, is that a bruise or a…” His mind was racing as he tried to convince himself the chill in his bones was in his head, a psychogenic reaction to the tension in the room. The spot on her heart was a bruise, nothing more. She must have gotten into some fights in the ruins. Or something.

“th-that’s a bruise right?”

Or _something_? It couldn’t be a bruise, it was floating on the surface of the soul, not permeating it.

Shit, he thought. There went that theory.

She hovered her finger just barely over the filmy substance on her soul and it sent another tingle up his spine. Formulae and reports ran through his mind at light-speed as he sat there in shock.

The only confirmed cases they’d ever studied were in monsters who had been partners for decades, and even then it was rare. It took constant and direct contact to instigate soul displacement. It just wasn’t fucking possible. Monster and human souls were massively different in makeup though, who knew how they interacted when exposed to each other directly. Taking into consideration the ability of monsters and humans to absorb each other’s souls it was theoretically possible for-

She was looking at him funny. Almost apologetic, as if she actually intended to-

Shit.

SHIT.

“It’s a stain.”

He panicked, lunging forward to stop her from directly touching the mark.

Okay, maybe he believed her a _bit_.

 

  
*****

 

  
Sans had once lectured you on the importance of intent when it came to monsters.

Being made of magic, monsters were both easier and more difficult to injure. If someone came at one with the intent to harm them, serious damage could be done with very little effort. On the other hand, without that intent it was incredibly difficult to injure a monster accidentally.

It was because of this knowledge that you did not cuss or jump when Sans shuddered and collapsed into a heap in front of you when you brushed the stain on your soul.

Intent was everything, and you had been on your best behavior resisting the urge to kiss the poor bonehead for the past few hours at least. You could only imagine how he was feeling as he pushed himself up with one quivering arm, the other groping to grip your wrist tightly as he muttered a string of expletives. His eye was glowing blue again, you noticed. Not completely flared with power, but still active.

His bones were digging into your wrist as he held it away from the spot on your soul. The violet glow reflected off the beads of sweat on his skull as he looked at the stain with an expression you could only describe as a fucked-up blend of horror and curiosity. You tried to will your soul back into your chest, but something held it fast.

“Sans, you said you wouldn’t freak-”

**“t h a t  w a s  r e c k l e s s .”**

You flinched as he all-but shouted at you, eyes still completely fixated on the surface of your soul. Having him stare like that made you feel uncomfortable. You felt your face grow warm as you gave your wrist a slight tug. That would bruise later if he kept up that pressure, and you already had enough of those from your earlier encounter with the flower. You needed to snap him out of it. Whatever “it” was.

“Quid pro quo?” you suggested after a minute or so, deciding to play up to his curiosity. He had reacted similarly the first time you two had noticed the spot, back when it was barely the size of a pinhead. At once he seemed to realize what he was doing and released you, looking up finally with a silent nod. The bed creaked as he shifted closer to your soul. You tried to prepare yourself mentally as best you could as a skeletal finger reached up to brush the glowing heart.

Much to your surprise (and, admittedly, some disappointment) he went straight for the stain. You felt a very slight tingle at the proximity as he lightly touched it, the fright in his expression melting away as something akin to wonder flashed in his sockets. You loved that look. It was the same expression he wore when you’d catch him distracted by the stars.

“it’s… _me_.” He shook his head with disbelief as he gently poked and prodded at the stain in different ways, being careful to never brush against your soul itself. “but why couldn’t i feel it before?” His voice was barely loud enough for you to hear, even as close as he was sitting to you. “... must be the physical matter of a human body… provides protection in more ways than one… the displacement is...”

“I hate to interrupt your research there bone-boy,” you cradled your wrist as he did his thing. “But have I proven my point yet?” He looked up at you once again with anxiety in his features, but the wonder was still there. It warmed your heart to see him look at you like that again. You tried not to get your hopes up.

“that was certainly a good start. raises a question or two though,” His pupils hadn’t left yours. You didn’t dare blink as he brought his hands up to your face, running the bones across your features gently. “firstly, how could i ever forget a face like this.” Your heart swelled, but his smile fell. “and second, how could i ever forget a face like this.”

Closing your eyes with a sigh, you leaned into his touch. So he was convinced, you thought bitterly, but still didn’t remember a damn thing. It was progress, and the suspicious tone in his voice was all but gone, but now he just sounded confused.

That was fair. So were you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone been noticing the difference in how I write Sans' sections, or is it just me putting more work for myself? I just really wanted to contrast it from how Reader thinks. That and, y'know, science background.
> 
> Also: Oh my god guys, YOUR THEORIES SUSTAIN ME. Do you know how hard it's been not responding to the theorizing comments? Some of you have even given me some sneaky ideas. :p


	7. Displacement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A power struggle, and the king of mixed signals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote and re-wrote this chapter about 20 times, I just was not satisfied with it. Sorry for the long delay in updating! We're back to normal now!
> 
> Also, this is your warning for some Reader x Sans interactions of the less-than-innocent variety. Nothing explicit, unless you find soul interaction really, really inappropriate.

Your eyes fluttered open as his hands ceased their exploration of your features. With a snap of his fingers (you never understood how that worked without flesh) the light in the room flicked off, leaving the both of you bathed in nothing but the lilac glow of your soul. You tried not to let the chorus of snoring from the next room ruin the moment. Sans seemed to notice your annoyed glance toward the wall and chuckled softly.

“you’ve ‘prolly seen this before kid, and i know it’s no con _soul_ aton, but humor me.”

Sans brought his hand to his chest and leaned forward in a mock-bow, his other arm waving out to the side in a hilariously lazy flourish. It would have been more impressive if he hadn’t been sitting on a garish bedspread in a shitty hotel room. When he rose from the bow he brought the hand forward and with a rippling of the air the representation of his own soul materialized behind it.

It was heart-shaped, similar to yours, but upended. An electric blue light pulsed from it, the shade so violently saturated it almost hurt to look at it directly. Mixing with the purple hues cast from your own soul, however, the color was muted enough to tolerate. Its surface rippled calmly, solid yet not.

It took a moment, but the gently pulsating glow slowly synced between the two souls. The icy stain on yours had drifted to the side facing Sans’, as if trying to return home. Sans paused, eyes darting to the spot and very obviously making one of his sciency observations. A split second later his eyes flared and he looked up at you with a strained grin.

“quid pro quo, then.”

And with that, before you even registered the implications of your own words being used against you, his skeletal hand was cupping your soul. A phalange gently skimmed the surface, sending shocks of pleasure down your spine.

It didn’t feel like Sans was touching your soul. It felt like his touch was everywhere at once; Your neck, your ribs, your back, your calves. Your pulse quickened slightly at the sensation and your breathing increased in speed along with it.

“not nearly as comical a reaction as you got outta me, bud.”

You caught the annoyed hint in his voice and grinned, muttering an “It’s only fair,” in response (which in hindsight may not have been the wisest idea). Sans’ blue eye flared slightly brighter, his gaze shifting to an annoyed yet mischievous glare.

A small spark of magic later and he was inside your very being, exploring your every nerve and leaving an icy burning everywhere his magic lingered. You bit your lip and gripped the bedspread underneath you, your knuckles white at the effort to keep yourself calm. Through the connection you knew Sans could feel your shitstorm of emotions and at this point you were enjoying the closeness to a level that you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel obligated to love you back because of something he couldn’t even remember.

“heh. no lv, that’s promising at least.”

Through the haze you reached out mentally to meet his presence, the backs of your eyelids dancing with color. You vaguely felt his free hand loosen your grip on the bed and entangle with your fingers as he explored your soul. The gesture was reassuring, but you couldn’t help but feel he was humoring you. Your pulse pounded in your ears as the physical connection aided in your focus and you found his side of the link. It was weak, since Sans was touching your soul and not the other way around, but it was there.

You sent as much innocent affection through the connection as you could manage, a gesture of good faith and trust.

His magic in your being withdrew slightly at the gift, as if he didn’t know what to do with it. His hand in yours shook slightly, distracting you from your focus. All that time comforting him, helping him control his demons, gone overnight. You wanted nothing more than to pull him in close and comfort him, seeing how pained and conflicted he was. You wanted to show him how much you loved him.

His hand in yours went deathly still, the presence in your mind frozen and unmoving. You opened your eyes and pulled back to give him some space, unsure exactly how much of that train of thought had seeped through the connection. You could feel the embarrassment floating between the two of you as his eyes were glued to the bedspread.

Shit, there was a glimpse of your old bone-boy. If you were going to do this you were going to do it properly. You swallowed nervously and reached towards Sans’ soul, hesitating over it. As if he could sense your intentions (which he probably could), he looked back up at you and nodded in silent consent. His jaw clicked shut and the skeletal hand in yours squeezed your fingers reassuringly, though his expression was still painfully tense.

This skeleton was the fucking king of mixed signals.

You closed the gap with a huff, and by carefully touching your fingertips to his soul you completed the connection between you. Being human you had to take a primitive approach when it came to soul interaction; groping blindly instead of guiding yourself with magic. The stain on your own soul flared brightly as the link became truly two-way. Sans shuddered at the intrusion into his being and you felt a wall go up to keep you from going too deep.

Fair enough, really. It felt startlingly similar to the feeling you harnessed to tether your own soul, but meant to keep shit out instead of in. You ignored it and let your mind wander away as you focused on just _feeling_ Sans. Not as an intrusion in your mind, but as an extension of it.

It was afterglow incarnate, a fuzzy tingle spreading from your fingers up your arm and over every inch of you. Your hair felt like it should be standing on-end. His presence in your being was moving again, albeit very slowly. He was still exploring you, prodding at your soul with his magic.

At least this way he’d know you weren’t hiding anything. It was a shame you couldn’t just send him your memories, but it didn’t work that way.

You trailed feather-light touches over the surface of his soul in your exploration while your mind attempted to separate your own feelings from his. Every time you moved your fingertips you could feel Sans’ hand shudder in your own, yet his fingers over your soul never budged even a fraction of an inch. Was he really this tense before the barrier was destroyed? Through the link you could feel a great effort, and you wondered if it was from keeping that hand still, or from focusing on not letting too much emotion slip through your connection.

Anxious. Tired. Terrified. Curious. It was impossible to tell what feelings were yours alone and which were leaking through from Sans.

There was another flare of curiosity you were sure was from Sans as you groped around the base of his soul, focusing on the (for lack of a better term) tension of the not-quite-liquid surface. It drew itself around your touch like you were a magnet. Not enough to puncture the surface tension, with every stroke on his soul you could feel his pleasure through your connection.

Ah, there it was. You pushed your finger ever so slightly deeper into the cyan substance at a spot that felt thinner from the rest. The surface split and enveloped your fingertip, eliciting a gasp and a guttural groan from the skeleton in front of you.

You gripped his hand tighter and very slowly dragged your digit through the surface of his soul, feeling the substance swirl and pulse around you. With every motion Sans let out a choked sound, his presence inside you flaring and twisting.

“Stop fighting me bone-boy, you’re going to hurt yourself.” You stopped moving completely. Your arm ached from the effort to keep it perfectly still. Colors continued to dance behind your eyelids as you focused on his breathing. His fingertips dug into your free hand, pulling slightly at the skin.

You cracked one eye open to the most satisfying sight you’d seen yet that day: Beyond your two souls, Sans had his own sockets closed, brow furrowed in frustration. His breathing was shallow and fast, sweat beading on his skull. Oh, he was fighting it alright.

“What’s wrong, Sans? Do you want me to stop?”

You twitched your finger ever so slightly and he jumped, inhaling sharply. Oh, you were feeling bold now. That confidence that had gotten you through your first encounter with Flowey was back, and it make you feel on top of the world.

Sans was silent. Whether it was in defiance of your teasing or denial that he was enjoying this as much as he was, you couldn’t be sure. Still, the presence in you seemed to relax somewhat. After a few painful minutes of him sitting there expectantly, his eyes shot open and he looked at you, his expression shifting to desperate annoyance as he caught you peeking at him with a smirk on your lips.

“really?”

The thumb on your free hand idly stroked the bones of his as you raised an eyebrow expectantly. A few more moments passed as you waited for an answer to your question, Sans’ face turning bluer by the second as realization dawned on him.

“pal, if you’re going to be like that,” his eye flared again, and his presence inside of you suddenly sent icy shock flooding your nerves. “no, i _don’t_ want you to stop.”

The power struggle was won. And hoo boy, did it feel good.

Untangling your hand on the bed from his, you brought it up to assist in the assault on his soul. Sans’ eyes widened and the pulsing inside you skipped a beat as he nervously watched your hands begin their work, trailing over his soul so lightly it tickled your fingertips.

Intent was everything with monsters, and your specific intent quickly brought Sans to a quivering, distracted mess. His breathing was ragged, and his magic was barely interacting with your soul.

You didn’t mind. You were having a blast.

  
*****

  
What the hell was he doing?

He’d just met this girl and he was letting her physically touch the most intimate part of him. Sure he’d had the occasional tender moment with some monsters across the timelines, but she was a human. One squeeze and she could shatter his soul like glass, turning him to dust in an instant.

A nagging voice in the back of his mind insisted that if this was some elaborate trap he’d be fine next reset, that letting go of his inhibitions once in awhile couldn’t really hurt anything. Still, he had erected a barrier in his mind to keep her out of his deeper consciousness. This girl wasn’t part of the normal equation, and her little dominant streak didn’t help his suspicions. He had to be cautious.

He braced himself as she moved, every touch sending chills through his bones. He couldn’t deny that her clumsy fondling felt pretty damn good.

He gasped, groaning at her intrusion deeper into his being as she moved through his soul. It was different from a thread of magic. A dull pressure on his very existence, pressing in on him from every direction at once. His bones felt like they were vibrating.

He kept a tight leash on his magic as she moved, every twitch causing an increase in pressure on his bones. It wasn’t unpleasant, he thought to himself. Just new. Everything about this girl was new. He fought to maintain his composure as the humming in his bones increased.

But the longer she continued her assault on his soul, the more the pressure built up, the more he desperately wanted her to continue whatever it was she was doing.

And then, when it felt as though his bones might be torn apart from the strain, the tension snapped.

  
*****

  
Your eyes shot open in surprise as an electric explosion rocked your core, every muscle in your body tensing at once as as your own soul flared a dark, mottled blue. You let out a surprised squeak as you suddenly face-planted into the comforter, feeling as though there were weights strapped to every inch of you.

The connection between you was severed. Your arms had been pulled down and away from Sans’ soul and he had instinctively pulled away from yours at the involuntary flare of his magic. Thankfully, the heaviness was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Breathing heavily from the surprise, you laid there face-down in a crumpled mess on the bed in silence, willing your pulse back to normal.

Well, you thought to yourself, that was certainly new. You’d never seen Sans do _anything_ with his magic unwillingly before, even during his nightmares. He was always so controlled. Your chest felt full once more as your soul returned home. The room was pitch black once it lacked the glow of your souls, and all was silent save for your breathing, Sans’ laboured panting, and the snoring next door.

“shit,” the silence was finally broken as you felt Sans roll you off your stomach and onto your side.

He was shaking. You could feel the residual magic from his touch on your soul as it shot through your nerves in a mild pulse. “shitshitshit.” You shook your head and reached up to touch the concerned hand on your shoulder.

“You promised you wouldn’t freak out.” You laughed softly, trying to assure him you were okay. The lights in his sockets were so dim you could barely make out they were there. Grabbing the loose fabric of his shirt you gently tugged him down beside you, rolling yourself partially on top of him and propping yourself up on your elbow.

“are you okay?” His voice was so quiet you could barely hear it over the snoring from the next room. “i’m sorry, i don’t-” He shook his head. “i have to go get ready for sentry-” he cut off as your lips brushed his teeth softly. You were determined to prove to him that he hadn’t hurt you, but he flinched at your touch and looked up at you confused once again.

Right. No memories. You wondered if that inconvenience extended to knowledge of how humans physically show affection. Unless they had books on that sort of thing down here?

When he didn’t pull away to leave you continued; trailing feather-light kisses from his mouth, to his jaw, and down to his neck. You felt a chill go up his spine. Intention was everything.

“why...?”

You paused, looking to his face in the dark. “I love you, bonehead. Like it or not. Thanks to your memory shit you just can’t understand the _gravity_ of the situation.” There was a loud CLACK as he smacked his palm over his face. You snorted loudly and grinned.

“why would you drop something that _heavy_ on me at a time like this?”

“Hey, what I’m saying carries a lot of _weight_. You should take it to _heart_.”

Silence.

And then, in perfect sync, the two of you burst into laughter. You laughed until your sides ached, doubled over beside Sans who was laughing just as hard. The two of you laughed so uncontrollably it finally roused the guests in the room beside yours, a loud banging on the wall causing you two to laugh even harder. And as your excitement dissolved into giggles, and finally into breathless chuckles, the tension that had been overshadowing the night seemed to dissolve with it.

This skeleton, you thought once again, was the king of mixed signals.

As the blanket of tension left the room, so did your stubborn defiance of your need for sleep. You had been awake for what had to be going on 40 hours. As a result, sleep decided to claim you mid-sentence as you sluggishly tried to thank Sans for humoring you.

Thankfully, you were too tired to dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another reminder that I can always be contacted with any comments or ideas of things YOU want to see in the story on my lit tumblr: http://faranaelit.tumblr.com/
> 
> Or you can come sin with me on the main blog: http://faranae.tumblr.com/


	8. Masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps you're a little too trusting?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I'm back! I told you we'd be updating a bit more regularly now! No more waiting two months for a chapter, I promise. :)

The first thing you did on waking was reach for Sans, a habit formed through years of morning assurances. When your groping found nothing but tangled sheets and a stiff pillow, your still-tired brain took a moment to process your surroundings. Tacky oranges and yellows were softly illuminated by grey light leaking through the curtain.

You frowned and rolled into the pillow, burying your cheek in it as you took a mental inventory of the previous day’s events. The fall. Your trek through the ruins. Freezing your ass off in the forest.

Sans. The pillow smelled like him. Earthy, with a hint of tomato and smoke.

You hugged the pillow closer and sighed quietly. At first you were sad, wondering how long you’d gotten to sleep beside him before he decided to leave. As the comfortable coolness of the pillow dissolved, you shook your head and sat up with a groan. Your muscles ached and your blisters burned with the heat of a thousand stingy-as-fuck suns.

Much to your surprise, there was a small care package waiting for you on the table.

Your clothes and jacket had been neatly folded, and from the smell of them laundered. Your bloody socks had been replaced by a new pair that looked overly fluffy and warm. There was also a heavy cream-colored mass that when unfolded turned out to be a warm-looking sweater. The last items on the table were a bottle of water and a cardboard take-out box which you assumed was from Grillby’s. Your suspicions were confirmed when you read the note scrawled on the top in perfect, loopy cursive.

“Sans, please take this to your visiting friend with my regards. On the house.”

In smaller lettering below that was a footnote, and you read it aloud with a snort:

“If he’s sabotaged this in any way please do not hesitate to let me know. I’ll add it to his tab.”

Curiously you unhinged the top of the box and were instantly overwhelmed with the smell wafting from what looked like the most delicious burger and fries you’d seen in your life. Though, you thought as you popped a steaming fry into your mouth, that opinion was likely biased by the fact you were absolutely starving.

You alternated between shimmying into your clothes and taking bites of the burger. Each was the perfect temperature despite the box sitting there for god knows how long. You could feel the slight tingle of magic as you ate, feeling awake and strong by the time you finished. Fire magic at work to keep the food warm was one thing, but something about that burger made you feel better than any surface meal, without the awkward over-full feeling in your stomach.

You stopped for a moment in shock as you pulled your jacket on over the new sweater. Now that you took more than a second to think about it, _you didn’t feel full at all_. You didn’t feel hungry anymore, but you also didn’t feel as though you’d eaten anything whatsoever. Was that normal for food in the underground?

Huh. Neat.

You stuffed your sleep clothes and the rest of your belongings into your bag before sitting on the bed and glaring angrily at your boots. You did not want to put that demon footwear back on again after the effect they’d had on your heels the previous day, but you really had no choice. Gingerly you slipped one foot then the other into the boots, lacing them tightly with a wince. The new socks thankfully provided a good deal of padding for the blisters, filling your boots enough to prevent shifting and irritation.

You’d have to thank Sans next time you saw him.

 

*****

 

“And I don’t care if you’re a friend of Sans. I won’t hesitate to refund the room’s rate for the week if you can’t keep your volume to a reasonable level.”

The cream-colored rabbit monster who ran the inn had at first been delighted to meet you when you made your way to the lobby, but caught herself as she realized you must have been the source of the noise complaints she’d received that morning. There was no threatening tone to her voice despite the threat, and the small fuzzy child next to her behind the counter was very obviously attempting to stifle a giggle.

“Yes ma’am,” you nodded politely and leaned over the counter to ruffle the fur of her little one. They squealed and giggled while their mother chuckled softly.

“And while you’re visiting Snowdin, be sure to stop by my sister’s shop next door. She’s the one who insisted on replacing those stained socks when Sans asked for help doing your laundry. I picked the color for the sweater though. I hope you like it!”

You froze, feeling embarrassment clawing at your throat. He’d had random residents of Snowdin handling your dirty clothes. Your _underwear_. You were going to kill him. That was it. You were going to commit a violence. You were going to dust him, get Frisk to reset, then dust him again.

Sensing your discomfort, the rabbit woman cleared her throat and placed a hand gently on your shoulder. “He didn’t go through your things sweetheart, no need to be embarrassed.” Oh, she had no idea. “I don’t know what rough patch you were going through in the capital,” her eyes looked concerned and sad. “Sans didn’t exactly go into detail, but we women have to stick together, right? Besides, you have no fur to keep you warm. That leathery skin of yours doesn’t seem very insulated.”

You gave her a reassuring and (hopefully) thankful smile and nodded. Once again, you’d completely forgotten that Sans didn’t know you. Of course he wouldn’t be comfortable handling your clothes. And what had possessed you into thinking he might do laundry, of all things? “Thank you, really. I couldn’t be in better hands on my visit from the… Capital.” While you made a mental note to keep your story straight, the rabbit seemed overjoyed that you were appreciative of her gesture.

“Such manners, too! Usually you city folk are very… Blunt.” She scratched behind her long ears passively. “Now I’m going to head up there and tidy the room while you’re out. Do be sure to visit the shop!” She gently waved and left, leaving the tiny bunny alone behind the counter. Their dark eyes glimmered mischievously as you watched their mother leave.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you later on, if my room’s paid for the week.” You turned to leave yourself when you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve. The bunny had jumped onto the stool behind the counter, straining to reach you. “You need something, kiddo?”

“Are you really friends with the skeleton brothers?”

“Sans and Pap? Kind of, why?”

“You’re nice. Are you gonna stay in Snowdin?”

Your breath caught. Were you? If you were going to let Frisk do their thing in the underground, you’d need someplace to stay anyways. But if you were down here and Sans didn’t remember you, you’d be on your own. Shouldn’t you do anything in your power to make sure Frisk could get the two of you back to the surface? The bunny child looked up at you expectantly.

“I don’t know, kiddo. We’ll see.”

You left the inn without another word and went next door to the shop, greeting the violet rabbit monster warmly and thanking her for the socks. The conversation was uneventful, and you left with a Cinnamon Bunny fresh out of the oven. It was warmer today, so you decided you would take the time to explore.

Pulling the hood of your jacket forward to cover your face, you made your way deeper into town. You lost your train of thought completely as you realized that Frisk and Papyrus really hadn’t been exaggerating when they described Snowdin as an ideal Christmas village. Snow-covered pines dominated the edges of the road, interrupted only by the occasional brick or wooden building. Every window glowed warmly, and some homes even had colorful holiday lights decorating the eaves.

You kept to the main road, passing several furry monsters of varying shapes and sizes as you took in the atmosphere. Everyone here seemed peaceful, just going about their daily lives. It was like a quiet place in the countryside up on the surface. Eventually the smell of snow was drowned out by that of food and you realized that a large building ahead on your left was Grillby’s, now awake and bustling with customers. You considered stopping in to say hello, but you couldn’t risk anyone recognizing you as a human.

“Oh, what about that one Naca?”

You heard the loud squeaking as you hesitated in front of Grillby’s and looked over to see two monsters idling around the trees beside the building. A small, mouse-like monster wrapped in several layers of scarf was pointing at you with a small clawed hand. Their companion, a tall red-cloaked horned monster, was covering their face with their palm and shaking their head.

“Come on, man. You can’t just pull aside everyone that wants to go into Grillby’s place. He’ll get mad at us for hanging out here aga-”

Their hand fell away from their face and they looked straight at you with hollow black eyes, and for a moment your heart skipped a few beats in fear. Their expression was frozen in a polite smile, but something about them seemed off. And if they were staring at you that way, they might have recognized you as a human. Shit.

“Naca, someone has to take this seriously. If that small purple thing that went through town earlier was a human it could be our ticket out of here. You there,” The mouse was looking up at you again, tugging his scarf away from his face so that he could speak better. “Are you that visitor from the capital that the bunnies have been gossipping about all morning?”

You nodded slightly.

“Did you see a tiny purple creature about my height go through here earlier? Do you happen to know if that was a human?”

You shook your head, gaze darting up to meet the cross-shaped hollows you assumed were the orange monster’s eyes. Their shoulders were shaking, you noticed. Barely, but it was there.

The mouse grumbled and pulled his scarf back up over his face. “We’ve all been down here so long nobody even knows what a human looks like anymore. It’s pointless. I thought someone from the capital might… Dammit.”

His companion patted him on the head and let out a soft chuckle.

“No sense in worrying over it, old friend.” He still hadn’t looked away from you, and you couldn’t help but stare right back. “Could you give me and our tourist-friend a minute? I want to ask them how things are going back in New Home.” The mouse huffed in acceptance and hopped past you towards Grillby’s.

“I, uh.” Shit. You had no way out of this without revealing you weren’t even from the underground.

“Hey, could you come with me for a minute?” He extended one gloved hand towards you, gesturing towards a side street with the other.

“What? No. No thank you.”

With a quick motion he grabbed your arm and tugged you along beside him as you protested quietly, trying not to make a scene. This was the first time a monster had physically gone after you instead of attempting a confrontation, and the concept quite frankly terrified you. You tested your soul gingerly, but felt no tugging whatsoever.

“Please, stop struggling. I’m not taking you to the king or anything.” His grip was like iron around your wrist. Not tight, but hard enough that you couldn’t break it if you tried. You passed by a few slime-like monsters and you turned to cry for help, but the orange monster swung you around and placed a finger over your lips. “Please, miss. Please. Just put on a smile and don’t attract attention.”

At that distance, having his face mere inches from yours, you realized two very important things. Firstly, his eyes didn’t only appear lifeless, they were actually shallow crosses cut into his face and painted black. In the center of each you could see a small, barely noticeable slit cut, and a pair of eyes beyond. Secondly, this close up you could make out the parts of his face - no, his mask - where the paint had been applied unevenly.

Your face ached with how wide your eyes must have been, and you could feel the cold stinging your teeth as you realized your jaw had dropped. Closing your mouth and swallowing roughly, you gave the monster a nod and put on a nervous smile. Great. You’d come all this way only to be kidnapped by a crazy masked… Whatever he was.

He took you down a side street that followed the river, the rushing water creating a soothing soundtrack to the journey. He didn’t take you far enough from the main road that you couldn’t find your way back if he let you go, but you were still far enough that your surroundings were more tree than building. You had no idea how many people would be around to hear you scream should it come to that. Somehow though, you doubted it. This guy seemed oddly trustworthy.

You shook your head violently to banish the thought. Thinking like that would get you killed down here.

Your heart was racing as he finally stopped in front of a small brick house, tugging you urgently down the walkway towards the door. The house was so generic and unadorned it was almost indistinct, and if you hadn’t been standing in front of it you might not have noticed it was there at all. Yet another warning bell went off in your head. You needed to run. But you didn’t want to.

He pushed the door open and let go of your arm, gesturing for you to go inside.

“Please.”

Every fiber of your being was pushing you to run. Get back to the main street, run into Grillby’s, and act like this had never happened. But something in his voice, a desperate pleading, caught your ear.

“So fucking help me,” you said quietly as you walked past him and into the tiny house. “Don’t think for a second I won’t dust you where you stand if you try to pull anything.” You caught him glancing up and down the street before closing the door behind the two of you, flicking several deadbolts closed. “Well that’s not intimidating at all. You aren’t exactly calming me down here dude.”

“Everyone around here just calls me Nacarat.”

“What, like the color?” The corners of your mouth scrunched up as you tried to keep yourself from grinning. He was, after all, bright orange. “Monsters really are terrible at naming things, aren’t they?”

“I was named by a human, actually.”

He brushed past you and walked into a small kitchen, leaving a trail of snow from his boots the whole way. Staying by the door where you could still see him, you surveyed the house. It was tiny and dimly lit, the windows covered with dark, thick curtains. Otherwise it was kind of nice. Simple couch, a television, a lot of books. An old-school sewing machine and shelf full of what looked like bolts of cloth caught your eye. The coffee table in front of the couch was covered in beads and jewelry.

So the guy liked crafts, huh?

A shrill whistling from the kitchen caused you to jump, but when Nacarat emerged with a kettle and a few mugs dangling from his fingers you relaxed somewhat. He paused and looked over the table for a moment, and you realized he’d forgotten it was covered in materials. Shuffling past him you carefully shifted the bottles of beads and spools of wire to make room. He hummed gratefully and set them down, busying himself with pouring water into the mugs and slipping a teabag into each.

“Do you take sugar? It’s kind of rare to get down here but I have some monster candy that does the same trick. Adds a bit of magic, too.” You weren’t one for bitter tastes so you nodded. He shuffled through the jars on the table before finding one that contained wrapped treats instead of beads. At your still-suspicious expression he laughed weakly.

“What’s with that look? You should smile more, it draws less attention.” He unwrapped a few of the candies and dropped them into each mug, giving them a stir while the tea steeped. “And there’s no point in being so suspicious all the time. Monsters are a pretty relaxed bunch, all said and done.”

“What’s with that mask,” you retorted with a glare. “You should stare less, it creeps people out.” You were feeling more trapped by the second, that trusting feeling fading the longer he stared at you. There were six. Six locks on the door. You tried to think of how long it would take you to get them all undone.

Nacarat noticed your glances toward the door and you heard a sigh behind the mask. Unwrapping another candy with one hand, he reached under his scarf with the other and you heard a soft _click_ as he undid some snaps attached to his cloak.

As he pulled the cloak and mask off in one agonizingly slow motion, your pulse raced and your muscles tensed as you looked once more towards the door. This was a terrible idea. Why were you here? You caught a flash of yellow in your peripheral vision and flinched as you turned back to your host.

Standing in front of the couch, bright orange cloak and horned mask draped over his elbow, a rather average-looking man was popping a candy into his mouth. His hair was matted to his face with sweat, and he seemed deathly pale, but there was no mistaking it. Definitely a human. He smiled at you politely and for the second time that day your jaw dropped. You blurted out the only words that came to mind:

“What. The **FUCK**.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very special nod to Marzipanrose on Tumblr who inspired me with their Human!Nacarat AU. I stumbled on one of their posts MONTHS ago and absolutely fell in love with the concept. I should be clear, this is NOT their Nacarat. But credit where credit is due for the inspiration!


	9. Pity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are offered sanctuary by a sad and lonely man.

Shifting his cloak in the crook of his arm, Nacarat raised his palms in a calming gesture as you suddenly scrambled backwards on his couch. Your mug clattered to the floor with a dull _thunk_.

A human. Hidden in the underground. What the everloving fuck. You mind raced, skimming through all the stories Frisk and the others had told you over the years. Not once was another human mentioned.

“Miss, if you’d please just calm down,” his voice was calm and soothing without the hollow effect the mask applied. That nagging feeling was back. Every time he spoke you couldn’t help but feel that he was trustworthy, but the effect made you more than a little uneasy. “I know you must be mighty confused, but please. I’ll make you another tea and we can sit and talk about this like adults. Is it a bit better without my face on?”

You nodded, still grasping for what to say past your initial outburst, but remained on the end of the couch opposite where he was standing. His movements were very deliberate as he bent to retrieve the fallen mug. As he made his way back into the kitchen, you closed your eyes and rested your head in your hands. The day had started off so well.

“What the hell? I thought there were no other people down here. Soul collecting and all that.”

Nacarat returned with a rag, a fresh teabag, and a clean mug; filling it from the kettle and busying himself with the jar of sweets while the cloth soaked up the spill on the floor.

“Aside from a few older monsters,” he sat as far from you as the couch allowed, passing you the steaming drink and brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Most every monster down here has only ever seen the children who’ve fallen down Ebott. Some haven’t even been around long enough to have seen those. Hell, the last kid to fall down here had to have been…”

He stopped at that, taking a deep sip from his tea before frowning in thought.

“Well, it was before the skeletons moved in, but time feels odd down here. Ten years? At least?”

“Ten years? And how long have you been down here?”

“Longer.”

The stretches of silence were getting uncomfortable. However, after draining his mug and looking at you with a sad smile, he continued. You sipped at the tea slowly as he leaned back into the couch, the cloak and mask never leaving his arm.

“I’ve been here since I was about your age, I can say that much.” You cocked an eyebrow at that as he didn’t look any older than you were. His smile grew less forlorn, crinkling his eyes. “I suppose living on magic food does the body good. Time feels strange down here, but I’ve been in the Underground at least 20 years. Likely a lot longer.”

He laughed quietly at your shocked expression, a mirthful noise that sounded far too practiced for your liking. He reminded you of Sans, in a way. “You keep making that face. Is it that surprising to see another human down here?” Realizing you were staring, you chose to study a small dish of glass beads instead.

“Sans didn’t mention anything about a human living down here, so yeah. It’s kind of surprising.” You drained your tea in a few large gulps and fidgeted with the mug. Nacarat leaned in towards you with a worried expression and you noticed that his face was indeed a bit wrinkled. Maybe he _was_ older than he seemed.

“Sans? You’ve already met Sans? Has his brother seen you? Please tell me his brother hasn’t seen you.”

“No?”

“Thank God. Don’t let him. I’ve seen two kids pass through here over the years. I’ve heard what happened to them. I’m not going to let that happen to me. Or you, if I can help it. And the tall skeleton, Papyrus, is the best of friends with the head of the royal guard. She’s vicious.”

Something about that statement rubbed you the wrong way, but you couldn’t put your finger on it until he spoke again, dragging a shaky hand through his hair.

“He’ll be distracted with that kid that showed up earlier, at least. Gives us time to make you a smile of your own. Yeah, the monsters are buying your capital backstory for now, but who knows how long until someone makes the connection that you and the child look similar.”

He jumped up (startling you in the process) and wove his way through the room towards the sewing machine, poking through the various piles of fabric. “And once the King gets his hands on this one, we can both go home. You picked a great time to fall! You won’t have to hide anywhere near as long as I have.”

Your eyes narrowed, the implications of his words finally sinking in and bringing on a cold anger as you stood from the couch.

“You said,” you chose your words carefully, trying not to sound too accusatory. “You said you’ve seen two kids fall?” Nacarat nodded, still poking around in his supplies. He pulled out a length of teal cloth before shaking his head and tossing it aside. “And, like Frisk, you didn’t even bother trying to help them hide?”

Nacarat froze. You realized too late that you’d given away that you knew the fallen human, but your anger was rising by the second and you were beyond caring at that point.

“For twenty-plus years, you’ve just been sitting in this little house. Hiding in plain sight. And when two _children_ fell into the underground you just turned a blind eye? Three, now?” Fuck tact. You were downright furious. With every word your volume rose, until you were shouting at his back. “What makes me so special that you’ll take that fucking mask off? Excited that the barrier will be down soon? That desperate for human contact? Is it because I have tits? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

He turned towards you at that, and you flinched at the hurt look on his face.

“Look, the kids were different.” He took one step towards you. Then another. Your anger kept you from backing down, until he was looming over you. You hadn’t realized how tall he was, even without the horned mask. “The first child I met down here was a sweetheart, kind-hearted to a fault, and convinced that they could just waltz through the underground armed with nothing but their own kindness and a battered frying pan. That kindness did them no good. The whole underground celebrated for a week straight after Asgore ripped their heart out.”

He grasped your shoulders and looked you in the eyes, and you could tell he was on the verge of tears. Despite his stature, right now he resembled a scared little boy more than anything and a pang of pity brought your fury down a notch.

“The last one fell on purpose. Wanted to find out why kids had gone missing over the years. Once they found the Underground there was no convincing them that the monsters hadn’t kidnapped the missing children. They wanted to bring monster-kind to justice for their crimes against humanity. Dusted a good number of them before reaching the King. They were judged harshly for their actions. That celebration lasted nearly a month.”

You found it difficult to imagine Asgore hurting a child. He was such a loving parent to Frisk back home. Nacarat gripped your shoulders tighter, trying to keep your attention.

“They thought, foolishly, that they could get past Asgore. When the secret? The secret is to keep smiling. Be optimistic. Put hope in their cause. Put on a mask and never take it off. These monsters are all softies, and not the smartest at that.” You tried to shift away, but he was squeezing your shoulders painfully tight now. ”You’re different than the kids. I can’t let you just…” His composure was slipping further as his voice cracked. “They would give me away, they wouldn’t be able to hide. But you could… Maybe… Stay?”

Earlier in the inn you had contemplated if you were going to stay in Snowdin to avoid messing with Frisk’s adventure. But now, looking into that lonely man’s eyes, you were filled with a sense of determination so fierce that it took you a fraction of a second to make up your mind.

“No.” Your voice was firm. You tried to call on the brave, tough act you’d used on Flowey. It must have worked because his hopeful gaze shattered and the sad look in his eyes turned dangerous. Your hands shot up to his as he jostled your shoulders, which would most definitely be bruised after the shake he gave you. “No, I won’t stay. Unlike you, I’m not a coward. We’ll see you on the surface. Now let me g-ugh!” He shook you again, more violently this time.

“You’ll get yourself killed! You know that right? You’ll get yourself killed for nothing when this little kid will just give them the last soul they need! We’ll be free anyway! Just stay!” You noticed too late that he wasn’t talking to you anymore. He had lost all sense of reason, shouting to himself darkly while your shoulders screamed in protest of his grip.

“Nacarat, please-”

“NO!” He roared, looking you in the eye again. “If you leave you’ll just tell them I’m here, to save the child! Won’t you?” Your heart skipped a beat at the accusation.

“Nacarat, Frisk isn’t-”

“DON’T TELL ME FOR A SECOND YOU WOULDN’T SAVE THE CHILD’S LIFE OVER MINE TO FREE YOURSELVES!”

Your skin tingled slightly and there was a faint _pop_ behind you as suddenly Nacarat was thrown across the room, pinned a foot off the ground to the wall. His body was enveloped in a blue glow. Whipping around and quickly scanning the room, you saw Sans standing just inside the still-locked door with a dark smile on his face. His right pupil was barely visible, drowned out by the glow from his left.

“look nac, i don’t know what you heard but this one isn’t-” You breathed a sigh of relief. “isn’t, um.” Sans’ volume fell as he stumbled over his words. You took a cautious step towards the couch, gingerly massaging your tender shoulders and looking at Sans hopefully. “she’s not...”

Sockets wide, his gaze flickered between the two humans in the room for a few moments before finally settling on the cloak still dangling from Nacarat’s arm. The man was visibly shaking and sobbing quietly now, staring horrified at Sans as if he were a death sentence.

“heh. well, that’s another first.”

Nacarat dropped to the floor with a grunt as Sans released his magic. He scrambled to his feet, groaning and tugging the mask back over his head. You could hear him swear softly as he struggled with the clasps. You moved towards Sans but stopped as he shot you an icy glare. Your blood chilled. What was that about? His gaze shifted back to the fidgeting Nacarat.

“let me _mask_ you a question, pal.”

The human froze mid-clasp. The polite, frozen smile of the mask stared at the floor stubbornly. That smile was more than a little intimidating to you now that you knew what was hidden underneath it; A broken, desperate, cowardly man clinging to what hopes and optimism he had left. You honestly pitied him.

“don’t mean to interrupt the little chat you _guise_ were having, but i can’t help but notice you’ve got something unique on the other towns _cloak_.”

Despite the puns, Sans’ voice was completely monotone. You recognized that tone. He was angry. Extremely so.

“he a friend of yours, kid?”

It took you a second to realize he was talking to you. Shaking your head with a small smile despite the situation, you continued to massage your shoulders.

“Not all humans know each other, Sans. This guy’s literally old enough to be my damn dad. Apparently he’s been living down here almost as long as I’ve been alive. You didn’t know?”

“huh. guess i don’t need to apologize for that _buckled_ drywall, then.”

Nacarat looked up at that, finishing the final clasps that attached his mask to his cloak. You eyed the wall where he’d hit and raised an eyebrow. “What buckled drywa-”

You were cut off by the sound of Nacarat slamming backwards into the wall again and, sure enough, the drywall buckled slightly on impact.

“Sans what the hell!” You rushed forward as Nacarat once again collapsed to the floor with a drawn-out groan. This time he didn’t stand up. You didn’t know why you cared. Why despite his outbursts you still felt like this man was worth trusting. Pity, you supposed.

“Please, I’m sorry, just don’t tell them. Please. I’m sorry. Everything will be okay. I’ll just keep smiling and they’ll never know. Please don’t tell the Guard.” His mask smiled up at you and you cringed. He was still thinking about himself. You didn’t have the patience for that right now. And what the fuck was wrong with Sans? Standing straight and looking back at the skeleton, he had his hood up and was guiltily staring at the floor. Ignoring Nacarat’s mumbled apologies you closed the distance between you two and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks, bonehead. I appreciate the rescue.”

“you shouldn’t have left the inn, kid. if the scarf mouse hadn’t been in grillby’s complaining about nac dragging you off i wouldn’t have known where to find you.” His eyes were lingering on your chest where your soul would be. You could hear the worry in his voice.

“I kept it safe, Sans. I always do. You know that.”

“no, i _don’t_ know that. we don’t have time to deal with this right now. pap’s fighting the kid again and i need to keep an eye on them.”

“Wait, Papyrus is _fighting_ with Frisk?! What if he hurts them? Let’s go! Go! Now! What is he _thinking_?” Sans snorted at your sudden change in tone, and the pinpricks in his eyes glowed slightly brighter with amusement. That glow nearly snuffed itself out in surprise when you immediately stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Let’s _go_ , bone-boy!”

“it’s not the kid i’m worried about getting hurt, babe.” He shrugged and your breath caught as he wrapped his own arms around your waist. “you know the drill, i guess. don’t let go.”

You glanced back to where Nacarat sat on the floor, stroking his mask and muttering to himself. Just a broken man, desperate to stay hidden at all costs. A monster among monsters, in his own way. As you felt the familiar crackle of magic running up your arms, you wondered if he would hate you for leaving him behind. You weren’t angry anymore. Just disappointed.

“i won’t lie to you kiddo,” Sans mumbled under his breath, just barely loud enough for you to make out. “this timeline has been full of too many new things for my liking.”

And with that, you were gone.

 

*****

 

  
Nacarat stared at his shaking hands for a long time after the girl and Sans had vanished from his living room. What had gotten into him, resorting to violence like that? It was so unlike him. He hadn’t even thought to ask her name. _Had_ he been that desperate for human contact after all those years?

Vague memories of the surface drifted through his mind, bringing a bittersweet smile to his lips under the mask. She had been so angry, so fierce. How much had changed up there in the years since he’d fallen?

As he sat there thinking, he came to the conclusion that the girl wasn’t allowed to be right. He had done the best thing, letting those children go to the king. If monster-kind was to be freed from the underground, if he was ever going to see the sky again, she wasn’t allowed to be right.

One more soul.

Just one more soul, and everyone would be free again. Entire families would feel the warm sun for the first time. Children would get to play in the rain.

Children…

“I just need to keep my chin up and everything will sort itself out. We’re so close.”

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the soft scraping of vines as they leaked through the new cracks in his wall.

“Golly Nacarat,” he stiffened slightly at the shrill voice from behind him and let out a defeated sigh. He was always so careful. How had he let that woman drop his guard so much?

“Your optimism never ceases to amaze me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another friendly reminder that you can find me in my little corner of the internet over on [my writing Tumblr, FaraFic!](http://faranaelit.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I hope you all have an excellent Valentines Day, be it with someone special or a quiet night in. I might have something special to post outside of Remembering Me, if I can get it done for tomorrow!


	10. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You aren't the only one who remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back?
> 
> To keep myself from burning out, I have removed my self-set minimum word count for chapters. This way, I'll be less inclined to stray from my outline/plan, and the chapters will break at logical points. Hopefully you won't even notice. Hopefully.

For once, the shift disoriented you.

Your stomach lurched as solid floor was replaced by the sinking feeling of deep snow. Windswept ice stung your face and your ears howled as the wind rushed past them. Your hair fought all attempts to hold it down in the storm, your quickly cooling fingers accomplishing nothing but tangling in the strands.

You could barely see your hand in front of your face.

“Sa-mph!” A blue mass of sleeve suddenly shoved itself over your mouth, the lump it was connected to tugging you forward.

“keep your voice down pal,” Sans lowered his arm from your face. You allowed him to lead you forward, his grip on your arm straining your already sore shoulder. Focusing through the snow you watched as he moved in one direction, then another, seemingly looking for something.

“no, no no no. shit, they’re not here.”

The blizzard let up slightly and your boots crunched as the deep snow gave way to what you could only describe as a battlefield. Bones littered the road, the snow packed down unevenly by hundreds of footprints the snow had yet to re-bury.

Sans’ sockets went dark and he disappeared from your side, only to reappear at the other end of the clearing. He bent down to scoop up some snow, rubbing it in between his fingers for a moment before straightening with a weary smile. You made your way to him carefully, watching your step so as not to trip over the ice and bones.

“Sans, what the hell is going on? Why would Frisk and Paps fight?”

“you know my bro has always wanted to capture a human.” Sans shrugged and began walking away as the storm nearly knocked you off-balance again with its ferocity. He gestured over his shoulder for you to follow him and you complied. “there’s no dust. the fight wasn’t serious.” You could hear the relief in his tone.

“just do me a favor and watch yourself around the kid. i won’t go into detail, just don’t let your guard down around ‘em. got that?”

The storm was getting lighter and lighter as you walked, the wind less sharp and the snow softer and less like ice. A memory of something rarely mentioned in all your times talking to the skeleton and the child rose to the surface. Something never elaborated on, merely hinted at. Just another dose of weird thrown into the mix.

“You’re scared it’s not Frisk that fought Papyrus, aren’t you.” It was a statement, not a question.

Sans stopped for a moment, and you took the opportunity to catch up. The storm raged only a few steps behind, but on reaching him there was barely a snowflake falling. His eyes were downcast, his brow furrowed.

“dammit, is there anything you don’t fucking know about?”

“Yeah,” you steered the conversation away from the sensitive subject, feeling sorry for bringing it up in the first place. “Where the fuck did that snow go?”

Sans stared at you for a moment before his grin lit up his face again.

“oh, it’s _snow_ secret that the weather down here is magic.”

He gained a few paces on you again as you groaned loudly, a shit-eating grin plastered on your own face.

“That was terrible.”

“i thought it was a pretty _ice_ joke.”

“That was worse. I want to go home.”

You laughed and caught up again, setting a lazy yet steady pace as you walked down the road together. There was a respectable distance between the two of you as you walked in silence, but it was still close enough that you could reach out for his hand if you wanted to.

Did the events of the previous night give you that right? You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but he seemed so wrapped up in being relieved about whatever he found in the clearing that he might not have minded.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud shriek followed by yelling as you approached a bend in the road. Sans instantly picked up his pace, running to make the turn before skidding to a stop as you thudded into his back. You could practically feel the tension leaving his bones as you took in the scene before you.

“REALLY HUMAN, IF YOU WOULD JUST STAY CAPTURED WE WOULD NOT HAVE TO GO THROUGH THIS REPEATEDLY.”

Frisk let out another shriek followed by a fit of giggles as Papyrus quickly dug his bones into their side. They were thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, struggling weakly as he tickled them. The two of them looked absolutely exhausted, but happy. And compared to Papyrus’ towering form, Frisk looked as small as a child- Wait a fucking minute.

“Holy shit they’re so _small_.”

You couldn’t help yourself. The kid slung over Paps’ shoulder was a tiny squirming mass of giggles, way smaller than the Frisk you had met after the monster quarantine had been lifted 4 years ago. But the mass of unruly hair and squinty eyes was impossible to not recognize. Frisk must have gone through one hell of a growth spurt after leaving the Underground, you thought.

You nudged Sans’ shoulder and made your way towards the trees with the intent of getting out of sight before you were noticed. Sans nodded and made to follow, but another yell from Papyrus put a stop to that.

“HUMAN, _PLEASE!_ THE GREAT PAPYRUS _INSISTS_ YOU CEASE YOUR STRUGGLING AT ONCE!”

Snapping out of your thoughts, you noticed Frisk seemed to be actively trying to get out of Papyrus’ grasp. They were pushing at his skull and flailing, tossing glances over at you while they tried to get down. Oh shit. You supposed there was no more question of if you were going to reveal yourself to the kid now.

“HUMAN, WOULD YOU- NYEH!!”

You snorted loudly as Frisk flung Papyrus’ scarf over his head and pulled hard, causing the tall skeleton to lose his balance and fall. The child hit the ground running, dashing through the snow towards where you and Sans were standing. They attempted to stop in front of you but failed on the icy ground, instead bowling you over with the tightest hug you think you’d ever gotten. The two of you fell into the snow in a fit of laughter as Sans looked on in unchecked amazement.

“Frisk,” you choked in between giggles. They shifted and allowed you to sit up, brushing snow off your coat. Grinning, they started signing at a furious pace.

“Frisk calm down, I can’t sign, you know that.”

They froze. Their normally shy eyes widened steadily as they studied your face, slipping into an expression of confused horror. You didn’t need a translator to know they’d just realized you were there. In the Underground. You were there in the Underground. The red of their eyes glimmered as they looked, shocked, between you and Sans.

“kid, you know this human?”

Ignoring you for the moment and glancing over to Sans, their hands moved in a blur. He approached the two of you slowly, shaking his head with a tired smile and a shrug.

“well if you’re throwing the script out the window, i may as well.”

They nodded, moving quickly to get off of you with an eyebrow raised curiously as they continued to sign. You were immensely confused.

“no i didn’t bring them here-” Sans expression darkens significantly as he glances over to make sure Papyrus isn’t yet within earshot. “are you completely dense? have you forgotten there’s a fucking barrier between us and your kind?” His voice is barely a whisper, and Frisk shakes their head, raising their hands in front of themselves apologetically while their eyes drift shut again. They make some familiar gestures but not enough that you can follow anything they’re saying.

Oh for fuck’s sake, that’s enough.

“Frisk you were talking to him on the phone literally two days ago. Can you maybe use words instead of giving me a headache?”

Frisk stops mid-sign and frowns at you sheepishly before signing a slow apology and looking to Sans desperately. Sans somehow manages to look both indifferent and annoyed simultaneously.

“kid says they can’t talk. they want me to play translator.”

You ignored the high-pitched tone coming from Papyrus’ general direction as he came close enough to notice you, his eye sockets practically glittering. Frisk reached down to help you stand, and you accepted the offer. However, you refused to let go of their hand, pulling them in close while looking at Sans.

“In that case, maybe you can translate why in the fuck we’re here.” Sans glanced nervously towards Papyrus, but you continued. “Frisk so help me I’m going to kick your ass if you reset over that date. I don’t care if you’re like 10 now. I will-”

“for the love of the stars will you please shut up,” You could feel yourself turning blue before your fingers involuntarily let go of Frisk’s sweater, the magic dissipating immediately afterwards.

Frisk looked between the two of you and nearly pulled you into the snow again as they fell to the ground clutching their sides, laughing like an idiot. You let them go, sharing a confused look with Sans as Papyrus reached down to hoist them over his shoulder once again.

“HUMAN, I SEE NOW WHY YOU WERE SO EAGER TO ESCAPE. YOU DID NOT INFORM THE GREAT PAPYRUS THAT THERE WAS ANOTHER HUMAN ACCOMPANYING YOU.” You flinched slightly at the volume but smiled up at him as you nodded in agreement. Oh, sweet, darling Papyrus. Never change. “AND HELLO, SLIGHTLY LARGER HUMAN! ALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE MYSELF,”

“Oh,” you shook your head and gave him the biggest grin you could manage. “I know exactly who you are! You’re the great Papyrus! Your brother has told me all about you! I’m a huge fan!”

Papyrus was practically vibrating. Sans gave you a subtle, relieved thumbs-up.

“AND AM I CORRECT IN ASSUMING THAT MY LAZY BROTHER HAS MANAGED TO CAPTURE YOU?” Papy let out another excited squeal of happiness while Frisk continued giggling like an idiot over his shoulder. “SANS! I DID NOT THINK YOU HAD IT IN YOU! I AM SO VERY PROUD!”

His expression fell slightly when Sans appeared to sleeping where he stood.

“I AM MOSTLY PROUD!”

Frisk’s giggles were renewed once again. What on earth were they finding so funny about all this?

“I DO SO HOPE YOU WILL ENJOY YOUR ACCOMMODATIONS, CAPTURED HUMANS. IF YOU WILL PLEASE FOLLOW ME, I WILL SHOW YOU TO YOUR QUARTERS.” He glanced at the child over his shoulder with narrowed sockets. “... AGAIN.”

With that, Papyrus turned on his heel and started walking towards town, gesturing for you to follow. Over his shoulder, Frisk was waggling their eyebrows suggestively and making kissy faces at the two of you. Sans made a choking noise.

“Frisk, no-”

“kid that’s not-”

You both stumbled over your words, Frisk looking at you smugly as Papyrus got steadily farther away. You rushed to catch up, Sans mumbling under his breath behind you.

“this is great. the kid knows you. fan-fucking-tastic.”

Frisk’s smile fell as they bit their lip and took a deep breath, trying to calm themselves. After a few moments of walking, they looked down at you with a more serious expression and slowly signed something. Sans leaned over, quietly translating in your ear.

“kid promises it was important. they want you to trust them.”

You looked back, but Sans was nowhere in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have seen, this work is now listed as being part of a series. I have linked it to Remembering You, the one-shot collection (well, soon to be a collection) of Reader's pre-RESET memories.


	11. Warm Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans needs to process this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone else noticed that Ao3 really, really hates line-breaks when pasting from google docs? Just me?

“No, we most certainly are _not_ staying in your... shed.”

Except for a few dog accessories, the toolshed beside the skeleton brothers’ home was mostly barren. You crossed your arms stubbornly and shook your head. You were all for humoring the younger brother, and you even understood that the “guest bedroom” was likely furnished with the canine citizens of Snowdin in mind, but a line had to be drawn somewhere. And that somewhere was the bowl of dog food in the corner.

Papyrus was looking at you with wide sockets, mouth slightly agape as you set your own jaw stubbornly. You were trying to ignore his distressed whine as he looked between you and the dog bed repeatedly. The gears in his head were turning, albeit slowly, as he tried to figure out if he had done something rude or unaccommodating.

He’s still new to the whole human thing, you thought to yourself. Your own features softened as you sighed in defeat. He didn’t know any better.

“Frisk can stay in my room at the inn if that’s alright. Papyrus, you have to understand that this is-”

Frisk patted you on the hand and walked through the bars to lounge back on the dog bed as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Though, you thought, being as tiny as they were that just might be comfortable. You couldn’t believe this. Shrugging, they pointed to Papyrus with a shy smile and then to themselves, pushing their cheeks into a wide grin before pointing to Paps again.

Papyrus let out an ear-splitting shriek of joy, beaming at Frisk and clapping excitedly in victory before looking to you expectantly, his sockets wide and shimmery.

Oh no. Oh hell no. Not the puppydog Papyrus face. That shit was criminally adorable.

“Papy, can’t I just be captured in my nice, warm room at the inn?” You groaned at that, running your fingers through your hair as you tried to ignore his pleading expression. “I’m paid for the week and I’m sure the lovely bunny family could use the business.”

The skeleton seemed thoughtful at that, tapping a gloved finger against his teeth dramatically. Frisk sat up in the dog bed, leaning forward to hear the two of you better. You raised an eyebrow questioningly at them. They made a hugging motion and pointed to Papyrus with a nod. Why couldn’t the kid just tell you what was up?

“VERY WELL HUMAN.” Papyrus managed to snap you out of your focus. “ON ONE CONDITION,” You smiled cautiously as he turned you to face him properly. For a skeleton, he was stupidly strong. “PLEASE DO NOT RUN AWAY AS THE SMALLER HUMAN DID. I’M NOT SURE MY BROTHER COULD MANAGE THE ENERGY TO CAPTURE A HUMAN MORE THAN ONCE.”

You fought a chuckle and put your hands gently on his arms. The black fabric covering the bone was scratchy, tickling your fingertips.

“You have my word, Papyrus. Thank you for being so generous.” Play it up, play it up. “You surely are great. Your brother is so lucky to have you.” Paps’ jaw wobbled and his eyes looked misty again for a moment as he nodded.

“SPEAKING OF MY BROTHER, WHERE HAS HE GOTTEN TO?”

You flinched, looking back towards Frisk who just shrugged and shook their head.

“I’m… Really not sure, Papyrus. He left to go do something, I guess.”

“LIKELY NAPPING AT HIS STATION AND LEAVING THE POST-CAPTURE DUTIES TO HIS RESPONSIBLE BROTHER. I’LL NEED TO HAVE WORDS WITH HIM LATER.”

Despite his harsh (by Papyrus’ standards) words, his expression was practically dripping with pride that Sans had managed to ‘capture’ a human. You smiled fondly yourself, tugging on his scarf gently to draw his attention back down to you. Before you could speak, however, Frisk slipped back through the bars and signed something to Papyrus with a shy smile.

“OF COURSE, TINY HUMAN! WE STILL NEED TO HAVE OUR DATE AFTER ALL.”

Oh, you had heard this story a thousand times. You bit the inside of your cheek in an attempt to hold back a giggle as Frisk grabbed Papyrus by the hand and practically dragged him out of the shed.

“SLIGHTLY LARGER HUMAN,” He fought Frisk’s pull for a moment, peeking back through the door. “WILL YOU BE ALRIGHT ON YOUR OWN FOR AN HOUR OR SO? I HAVE A PREVIOUS ENGAGEMENT BUT I WOULD BE THRILLED IF YOU WOULD JOIN US FOR DINNER LATER AS A CELEBRATION!”

“Absolutely Papyrus. What’s on the menu?”

Papyrus’ eye gleamed dramatically before he was tugged out of sight of the doorway once again.

“OH, YOU WILL HAVE TO WAIT AND SEE!”

You rolled your eyes. Three guesses what he was planning on making, and the first two don’t count.

 

*****

 

The kid remembered the girl.

He didn’t know why he’d expected anything different, or why the fact had hit him harder than a speeding Tsunderplane.

Sans muttered his thanks to Grillby as another tumbler of strong-smelling whatever-it-was was placed on the bar. The elemental hesitated in front of him, keeping his hands busy by running a rag repeatedly over the surface of a glass. The same glass, Sans observed, that he’d been cleaning since he took his seat 20 minutes ago.

The lunch rush having passed, Grillby’s was deserted. Sans stubbornly held his gaze to the glass, unable to meet his friend’s concerned eyes as his flames crackled low and steady.

_“I’m not going to ask,”_ He flinched. The magical hiss of Grillby’s speech held a hint of pity. Sans downed the contents of the glass in one fluid motion, the foul liquid threatening to dull his hurt confusion, but not quite managing it. He looked up at Grillby with a sour expression, not bothering to keep his smile up. He respected Grillby too much to insult him that way. _“But do know that should you wish to talk about her, I’m here.”_

Talk about _her_ _?_ Subtle as a brick to the face, Grillbz.

Sans sighed, pushing the empty glass forwards. Grillby pulled a bottle from behind the bar, filled the glass once more, and slid it back. Sans knocked back the drink without a second thought. His hands subtly tingled with energy, as if a thin film of magic had developed over the surface of his bones. Ah, there was the buzz. Took long enough.

“grillbz, has anyone ever told you a story,” he began, his speech slurring slightly despite his deliberate attempts to articulate. The irritating downside to alcohol. “has anyone ever told you something they’re damn sure is accurate, with proof to back it up, but you know in your bones that it can’t be true?” He held his skull in his hands, playing through the previous night’s activities in his head.

She seemed to know him so well, yet not at all. The soul displacement should have been undeniable proof, but if that was the case then why couldn’t he remember her? Had he just lost the previous timeline entirely? What had caused it? Were the resets getting to him again?

He had tried to justify it as more timeline fuckery, that perhaps even with the displacement she really was from a different timeline. Another anomaly.

But then came the kid. Frisk knew her. Frisk hinted at them being a couple. Frisk had gone so far as to suggest that he had somehow brought the girl here through the reset.

Grillby remained silent. Sans gathered himself a moment before continuing.

“you convince yourself there has to be some logical explanation. then something comes along and just… fucks everything. and you doubt you were ever right to begin with.”

Sans felt a warm hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Grillby frowning down at him over the bar.

_“It’s not my place, exactly, but if I may offer some advice? Not as a bartender, but as a friend.”_

He nodded, the sluggish feeling of magic over his bones intensifying as the latest drink really took hold. Grillby released his shoulder and walked around the bar to take a seat next to him, a resigned hiss of a sigh breaking the new silence.

_“Humans are strange creatures,”_ he began. Sans rolled his eyes. _“They are complex. A combination of so many traits in varying, shifting quantities that it makes them difficult to read. It is both endearing and infuriating.”_ Grillby leaned forward on the bar, resting on his elbows. Sans took note of his lost gaze as the elemental stared off into nothing. _“They are more powerful than any monster could ever hope to be, yet they are fragile. Brittle. It is far too easy to shatter their resolve and toy with their emotions, even unintentionally.”_

Sans cocked a browbone, eyeing his friend curiously. Without meeting his gaze, Grillby continued:

_“She likes you, you know. I’ve only met her once and it’s painfully obvious.”_

Sans groaned at that and buried his head in his arms, the thick fabric of his jacket threatening to swallow his skull whole. He could feel his cheeks coloring as Grillby chuckled.

_“I don’t know how you know her despite the barrier, Sans. Or how she seems to know me, come to think of it. I won’t ask. But perhaps you should take some time to think about how you feel towards her before you both get hurt.”_ Grillby placed a hand on Sans’ shoulder once again, the heat soaking through his jacket comfortably. _“A bond is not something to take lightly. If your soul calls for hers, it’s something you should act on.”_

Grillby stood at that, reaching over and around the bar to grab a bottle of water to place in front of the skeleton. Sans chuckled darkly. His friend was observant, but had missed his concerns by a mile. Still, the advice was sincere.

_“Bonds between our races weren’t entirely uncommon, years past. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Humans are short-lived. Seize what happiness you can, before the storm rolls in. That’s my take on things. Now drink that and sober up. I don’t need your brother bursting in here to lecture me on the dangers of alcohol during the dinner rush. Again.”_

Sans lifted his head at that, grabbing the water bottle with a sigh and breaking the seal on the cap. Grillby made his way back around the bar, picked up his cleaning rag and, finally, began cleaning a new glass.

“lemme _ash_ you a question, grillbz.”

Grillby’s flames crackled happily at the pun, glad to see his friend’s humor returning. Sans smiled as he tilted the bottle back and drained it in one pull.

“i didn’t exactly give her a _warm_ reception. you really think there could be a _spark_ between us?”

Grillby nodded, his talkative streak apparently over.

“you know, if the guard finds out about this we’re all going to get _burned_.”

Grillby nodded again. The door to the bar opened with a loud ring as Sans tossed the empty bottle towards the trash behind the bar, using his magic to guide it into the rim when it threatened to bounce off.

“ah, fuckit. no harm in sitting back and letting it happen. whatever this is.” Grillby grinned mischievously as Sans raised his arms toward the ceiling comically. “it’s not going to matter in the end anyway. she’s more stubborn than jerry for stars’ sake.”

Grillby’s grin widened at that, eyes flickering knowingly over Sans’ shoulder. The skeleton froze, arms still lifted, at the muffled chuckle behind him.

“she’s behind me. you’re a dick. you know that right.”

Grillby burst into silent laughter, his flames brightening the bar considerably.

 

*****

 

“ah, fuckit. no harm in sitting back and letting it happen. whatever this is.”

Your heart was somewhere in your throat, choking off any attempts to speak as Sans gave a resigned wave towards the roof. You don’t know why this wasn’t the first place you had looked for Sans after Papyrus ran off with Frisk. Was he talking about you with Grillby? Should you interrupt?

You gave a quick glance around to be sure the room was empty before lowering your hood, brushing snow off your shoulders as you stepped further into the bar. You took in your surroundings as your body adjusted to the warmth, getting a better look at the bar now that it was open and you weren’t freezing your ass off. It looked much less divey with the lights on. You waved in greeting to Grillby as you approached.

“it’s not going to matter in the end anyway. she’s more stubborn than jerry for stars’ sake.”

You stopped mid-wave as your hand shot to cover your mouth in surprise. Grillby grinned and looked at you, his eyes flashing in amusement. If Jerry was anything now like he was in 5 years, you knew that it hadn’t been a flattering comparison. But it was still fucking hilarious.

You openly laughed through your gloves as Sans froze in place.

“she’s behind me. you’re a dick. you know that right.”

You burst into laughter at the same time Grillby did, clapping a hand down on Sans’ shoulder as you pulled up a stool beside him. His arms were still frozen above him, his cheeks a fluorescent blue as he stubbornly refused to look in your direction and it only caused you to laugh harder.

Knowing Sans, even if he wasn’t showing it, that was his desired reaction. Your suspicion was confirmed as he slowly slipped back into a relaxed posture as if nothing had ever happened. His grin looked tired, slightly strained, but genuine.

You took in Grillby’s uniform with a satisfied smile. Seeing him in his usual semi-formal attire this time was far less awkward and felt more like home.

“Can I get some fries please, Grillby? I don’t want to fill up too much on lunch. I have a hot dinner date tonight.” You winked playfully and set some gold on the bar. “And a coffee with a shot of whatever you gave me last night, please. That was wonderful.”

Grillby’s flames flared that greenish tinge again as he collected the gold, nodding professionally and making his way to the back. Turning to smile at Sans, you caught his knowing smirk and were instantly suspicious. You raised an eyebrow in response.

“hot dinner date, eh?”

Oh, his voice was practically dripping with knowing snark. What was that about?

“Yeah? Papyrus wants to celebrate the whole capture thing. He’s been really generous.”

“my bro sure is great, huh?”

“Sure is.”

You scanned the back of the bar while you waited for your food, seeing if you could actually recognize anything on the shelf. A few of the older bottles stood out as human brands, but for the most part the labels seemed to be homemade. Did Grillby brew his own alcohol?

You glanced to the side again to see Sans just… staring at you, the cocky smirk still playing on his features. You squinted at him, but he just kept staring. Knowingly.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s up?” You smiled to yourself as you realized the unintentional pun.

“you just seem so excited about dinner with paps.”

You chuckled and undid your jacket, the heat finally getting to you. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? Your brother is awesome.”

“have you, uh. actually eaten my bro’s cooking?” His grin only widened.

“Of course I have. His skills have really improved over... the…”

The realization dawned on you slowly as you spoke. Sans’ grin widened even farther as he watched the puzzle pieces fall into place from your quickly falling expression.

Oh.

_Oh no._


	12. Fearsome Pasta-bilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't find the knives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm... Really not all too fond of this chapter? It refused to go the way I wanted it to. Seriously. This entire chapter is the lead-in to what I actually wanted this chapter to be about. So I'm sorry if it seems a bit off. :(
> 
> Rargh.

Later, Sans hopped down from the barstool with a complete lack of grace, wobbling on his feet as he fought to regain his balance. You placed a few extra gold coins onto the polished wood, hoping it would be enough to cover the drinks Sans had obviously had before your arrival. Grillby flared in surprise and shook his head disbelievingly, motioning for you to take back the money. You smiled up at him apologetically but left the gold where it sat as you slid off your own stool, offering an arm to help Sans steady himself. He took the arm without argument, much to your surprise.

“Shit. No matter how sobered you feel, it always hits you harder once you stand up huh?”

Sans chuckled weakly, his grip on your arm tightening as he muttered an “i’ll be fine, just gimme a minute.” You tried your hardest to ignore Grillby’s frantic waving behind you as he gestured to the coins on his bar, but a rather loud hiss drew your attention back towards him as you guided Sans towards the door. The elemental was glaring at the coins as if they might spit venom at him. You laughed, drawing the glare to you.

“Oh, don’t be like that Grillby. I’m more stubborn than Jerry, remember? Put it towards Sans’ tab.” The flames on his head muted slightly, but the glare remained. He pointed to Sans accusingly, and let out an exasperated sigh as if to insist that Sans’ tab was not your responsibility. Another, softer gesture to Sans had you tilting your head in confusion. You had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

You shrugged apologetically and led Sans out of the bar, tugging your hood up as you went. The wall of cold hit you hard, causing you to stiffen and pause while your nose and lungs adjusted to the sudden change. Sans groaned and shook his head as if to shake the buzz away as you gently nudged him forward again, leading him back towards his home.

“he said you’re gonna spoil me.”

You sighed and kept your eyes forward, a smile tugging at your lips. You were pretty hopeless.

“‘Prolly,” was your only response.

You fell into silence as you trekked up the main road. A few furry monsters outside the library - wait, no, ‘librarby’ - watched you and Sans pass with mild curiosity, but aside from that nobody paid you any mind. Sans had managed to stabilize himself, but hadn’t let go of your arm yet. You took comfort in the contact. You were starting to appreciate the little things you’d taken for granted before.

As you pushed open the door to the house, you heard a loud clanging followed by an exclamation of “FEAR NOT, TINY HUMAN! THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS FINE!” You felt Sans stiffen under your grip as the door swung open to reveal a concerned Frisk dragging a mop towards what you could see of the kitchen. Papyrus was standing at the counter, skull dripping with what looked like a rather mangled tomato clogging his right socket. The rest of said tomato (and possibly every other fruit from the same vine) dripped down the counter and stained the obviously well-loved apron he was wearing.

As if this was a regular occurrence, Sans tugged you in farther so he could kick the door closed. With your free hand you tugged your hood down and gave a quick look around the place. The brothers had a pretty nice house, color scheme aside. You were most definitely not feeling the bright blue and purple carpet.

“HUMAN!”

Papyrus was standing in the doorway now, arms crossed and looking at the two of you with an extremely upset expression. His face flitted between annoyance and disappointment as Frisk tried to hide a shit-eating grin behind their hands, the mop temporarily forgotten.

“hey bro. ‘sup?”

“HUMAN I AM VERY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU. YOU PROMISED ME YOU WOULDN’T RUN AWAY!” If it were even possible, Papyrus appeared to be pouting. Sans cocked a browbone curiously.

“Papyrus, I went to find Sans. You told me to keep myself busy, remember?” Your eyes had gone wide at the accusation. Why on earth was Papy so upset?

“THEN WHY IS IT MY BROTHER HAD TO CAPTURE YOU AND BRING YOU BACK?” Papyrus crossed to the entryway in two long strides, poking a tomato-dripping finger at you and Sans as he spoke. “SANS I AM VERY PROUD THAT YOU MANAGED THE EFFORT BY THE WAY. BUT HUMAN THAT DOES NOT EXCUSE YOUR BEHAVIOR.”

“paps what are you talking about, we just came from grillby’s. no reason to get _heated_.”

“OH.”

Papyrus froze, his gaze drifting lower towards your- Oh for fuck’s sake. Sans was still holding your arm.

Sans seemed to come to the same conclusion as you, dropping your arm like he’d been burned by it and shuffling over to collapse on the couch while you struggled stubbornly to undo your boots. Papyrus was flushing slightly orange at his mistake, looking between you and Sans while Frisk giggled openly.

“I SUPPOSE THIS MEANS TONIGHT’S DINNER WILL BE APOLOGETIC AS WELL. I SHOULD NOT HAVE ASSUMED. CAN YOU FIND IT IN YOURSELF TO FORGIVE ME, HUMAN? I WAS MOST UNKIND.” He stood in front of you, still dripping tomato and looking like he might cry at any moment. Flinching slightly as you finally managed to slip the boots off over your blisters, you straightened and clapped a hand on Papy’s arm encouragingly.

“Of course I forgive you, Papyrus. What are friends for?”

You were not prepared for the enthusiastic shriek that followed.

“REALLY? YOU WANT TO BE FRIENDS WITH ME AS WELL, SLIGHTLY LARGER HUMAN? WOWIE!” His expression brightened, small sparkles floating in his sockets as he patted your hand a little too enthusiastically. “TWO FRIENDS IN ONE DAY! DID YOU HEAR THAT SANS?”

“real proud of you, bro.”

The force with which you were pulled towards the kitchen was nearly enough to give you whiplash, Papyrus chattering on excitedly about how he would need extra ingredients to add extra ‘friendship’ to his dish as Frisk looked on in horror. You were barely able to avoid the wet spots on the floor as Papyrus placed you in front of the counter where some onions and cloves of garlic were sitting on a board. As covered as he and the kitchen were in tomato, enough had somehow survived to fill a large pan which was sitting on the stove.

“THE SMALL HUMAN IS NOT COMFORTABLE ASSISTING WITH KITCHENLY MATTERS,” The tall skeleton pointed to the cutting board as he wrapped his scarf a bit tighter around his neck. “THEY TOLD ME THEY WOULD CRY IF THEY HAD TO ASSIST WITH PUNCHING THE ONIONS. WOULD YOU PLEASE PREPARE THEM WHILE I VENTURE OUT IN SEARCH OF SOME SECRET INGREDIENTS?”

“S-sure Pap. Not a problem.”

Frisk held the mop against their shoulder as they signed something to Papyrus excitedly. “OF COURSE, TINY HUMAN! I WOULD LOVE THE COMPANY!” Practically dancing on his feet, he led Frisk into the hallway. “WE WON’T BE LONG, HUMAN! THANK YOU FOR YOUR ASSISTANCE! AND PLEASE DO NOT ALLOW SANS TO PUT KETCHUP IN THE PAN.”

“would i do that bro?”

“YES SANS, YOU WOULD. AND HAVE.”

As Papyrus argued with Sans, Frisk pulled on their boots and gave you a small wave. You were about to wave back when they pointed over to Sans and wiggled their eyebrows suggestively at you again.

This fuckin’ kid.

Laughing at your unimpressed expression, Frisk bolted out the door.

“no time, bro. you’ve gotta _ketchup_ to the kid.”

“NOT AGAIN! TINY HUMAN, WAIT!”

The door slammed shut as you began hunting through drawers and cabinets. Dishes, cutlery, bones…

“Huh. That’s odd,” you thought aloud as you closed the last cupboard. Plucking an onion from the counter you looked into the simmering pan thoughtfully.

“Where are the knives?”

**S L A M**

The world was upside-down. Wait, no, it was right-side up, just in front of you. Below you. You were looking at the floor. And a very surprised-looking Sans.

You knew this feeling. Lifting your head slightly to look at your body was a difficult task. Dropping the onion, it fell to the floor with a muted crunch.

You were blue, now.

“Sans!”

Your everything ached from the impact with the ceiling, but you otherwise felt okay. Sans not so much. The longer he held you, the more you could see him shaking. His eyes were wide and confused, the magic in his socket flickering as he searched your features carefully. The hand not holding you to the ceiling with magic was clutching his shirt desperately.

“Bone-boy, what’s _up_?”

With a pained grunt, Sans slowly lowered you towards the floor. The closer you got the more you could see how severely he was shaking. His eye fizzled out completely as you landed and you immediately rushed forward to catch him as his legs gave out. The two of you crumpled to the floor in a pile.

“Sans, holy fuck! Are you okay?”

He shook his head slowly, sweat pouring down his skull and soaking into the collar of his shirt.

“ _blue_ i look okay to you?”

“That was weak.”

“yeah.”

Helping him out of the kitchen and onto the couch was an easy enough task considering he didn’t weigh too much. His breathing was heavy, but he didn’t sound like he was in pain. You relaxed somewhat, poking at the sore spot on the back of your head.

“What the fuck was that about?”

“sorry…” The guilt was obvious on his features, the lights in his eyes refusing to look in your direction at all. You froze for a moment before leaning back into the couch, reaching an arm over the back to run your fingertips over his skull in small, calming circles. You tried not to take his flinch personally. “you reminded me of someone else. i shouldn’t have-”

“Not that, you idiot. I know panic when I see it. I meant you. Are _you_ okay?”

“that,” he wheezed out a weak laugh as he ran his hands over his arms, pulling into himself slightly. “that was apparently what happens if i try to turn part of myself blue.”

“Why in the hell would you try to turn yourself blue?”

He placed a shaky hand against his chest and stared at you, waiting for you to come to the same realization he had. You slapped your palm to your forehead with an exclamation of “Fuck, duh. Soul thing,” just as the door flew open and a rather cold-looking Frisk entered with Papyrus.

“I HOPE YOU HAVE LEARNED YOUR LESSON,” Papyrus was saying as he shook snow out of his skull, placing a paper bag on the table. “I AM THE GREATEST AT SNOWBALL-” His voice trailed off, staring at the two of you on the couch, slack-jawed. Frisk looked back from their boots to see what could possibly have silenced him, only to start giggling like a maniac on seeing the two of you.

You, clothes slightly roughed up, hair disheveled, with an arm dangling over a sweat-covered Sans’ shoulder.

God **fucking** dammit, this day would be the end of you.

Red-faced, you stood a bit too quickly and walked to the kitchen while an incredibly amused Sans tugged Frisk up onto the couch with him for a nap. Oddly, the kid seemed completely on-board with the idea. You watched the scene with a fond smile before retrieving the onion from the floor. You’d have to talk about whatever-the-fuck-that-was later.

“I’M GOING TO ASSUME YOU NEVER GOT AROUND TO PUNCHING THOSE ONIONS.”

Papyrus whizzed past you as Frisk’s laughter erupted at maximum volume from the living room. You playfully tossed the onion at his head and he caught it with a smile, striding to check the tomatoes reducing on the stove.

“Your kitchen isn’t really equipped for human cooking, Paps. We use knives to cut our vegetables. Not our, uh, fists.”

Papyrus crossed his arms and beamed at you after placing the onion back on the board.

“WELL WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST SAY THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE? I CAN’T BELIEVE HUMANS COOK JUST LIKE METTATON DOES ON TV! WOWIE!”

His eye flared a blindingly fluorescent orange as he pulled a short, thin bone seemingly out of nowhere. He stared at it for a moment, seemingly unsatisfied with the creation.

“No, no. Mettaton always says cooking knives must be sharp,” he murmured, his quiet volume startling you more than his shouting ever had. His right eye flared again, the shifting magic lingering as he ran his glove slowly over the edge of the bone. A powdery dust fell from the edge in his wake, leaving behind a smooth, mirror-like edge.

“MY APOLOGIES FOR THE DELAY, HUMAN.” Turning the knife to hand you the dull end, Papyrus looked between you and the cutting board expectantly as if wondering what sort of magic you were about to work on that onion. You hated to disappoint, but the majority of your culinary expertise had its roots in college-dorm cooking and what you’d gleaned from watching the food network on television. Curling your fingers to avoid the edge of the blade, you gulped nervously as the makeshift bone knife dropped through the onion as if it weren’t even there. Your own jaw went slack.

“Papyrus, this is the sharpest knife I’ve ever seen.” You hesitantly lifted the blade and let it drop over the onion again, amazed at the complete lack of resistance. “You did a great job, it’s perfect.”

“NYEH HEH HEH! OF COURSE IT IS!”

Doubly careful of your fingers, he watched intently as you showed him how you were holding the knife to avoid cutting yourself, and how to slice into the onion part-way to dice it into smaller pieces more easily. After the first few cuts Papyrus thanked you for your assistance and shooed you out of the kitchen so that he could finish his ‘friendship masterpiece’ in peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to re-name this entire fic to "Frisk giggles endlessly at you and Sans doing weirdly awkward adorable shit".
> 
> See you next chapter! Same bone time, same bone channel!


End file.
